liE'.r 


Tolstoy  and   His  Wife 

Photogravure.  —  From  a  Photograph 


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LETTERS  AND    ESSAYS 

LIFE 

GENERAL  INDEX 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 


By 
COUNT  LEV   N.  TOLSTOY 


Translated  from  the  Original  Russian' 
and  edited  by 

PROFESSOR  LEO  WIENER 


BOSTON 

COLONIAL  PRESS  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  jgo^ 
By  Dana  Estes  &   Company 


Entered  at  Stationers''  Hall 


Colonial    Press  :     Electrotyped   and    Printed    by 
C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co.,  Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


um. 


oo(t^^^6/<^ 


CONTENTS 


— » 

PAGE 

First  Recollections 1 

Church  and  State <,         .  9 

To  N.  N.  Ge's  (Gay's)   Painting  (Christ's  Last  Dis- 
course WITH  His  Disciples)    .....  26 
Apropos   of   A.   I.   Ershov's   Book,    "Recollections 

FROM  Sevastopol  " 31 

"  The  Non  -  Acting  " 41 

Three  Parables 67 

Parable  the  First 69 

Parable  the  Second 73 

Parable  the  Third 77 

God  or  Mammon? 81 

Shame  ! 93 

Preface  to  Carpenter's  Article,  "  Modern  Science  "  103 

Carthago  Delenda  Est 117 

Two  Wars 131 

Patriotism  and  Government 141 

»  Thou  Shalt  Not  Kill  "       .         .         .         .         .         .167 

Where  Is  the  Way  Out  ? 177 

Need  It  Be  So  ? 193 

Answer  to  the  Decree  of  the  Synod  of  February 
20-22  AND  to  Letters  Received  by  Me  on  That 

Occasion 225 

The  Only  Means 239 

«  The  Soldiers'  Memento" 263 


VI  CONTENTS 

PAGB 

"  The  Officers'  Memento  " 273 

Introduction    to   W.  Von   Polenz's    "  Der   Buttner- 

BAUER  " 285 

On  Religious  Toleration 297 

Letters  on  and  to  the  Dukhobors     ....  309 

Persecution  of  Christians  in  Russia  in  1895    .  311 
Two  Letters  to  the  Leader  of  the  Dukhobors, 

P.  V.  Verigin 322 

Nobel's  Bequest 332 

An  Appeal  in  Behalf  of  the  Dukhobors    .         .  338 
Letters  to  the  Dukhobors  : 

I.     To  THE  Dukhobors  of  the  Caucasus       .  343 

II.     To  the  Dukhobors  in  Canada           .         .  344 

III.     To  the  Dukhobors  in  Canada           .        .  345 

Letter  to  Nicholas  II 353 

Thoughts  on  Education  and  Instruction  .        .        .  357 

Letters  to  Various  Persons 385 

Letter  to  a  Revolutionist 387 

On  Non  -  Resistance  to  Evil          ....  393 
Two  Letters  on  Henry  George    ....  396 
Letter  to  a  Pole    .         .         ...         ,         .         .  402 
Relation   to  the   Government   and    the    Exist- 
ing Order 409 

Letter   to  the   Minister   of   Internal   Affairs 

AND  to  the  Minister  of  Justice       .         .         .  414 
On  the  Deception  of  the  Church       .        .        .419 

Three  Phases  of  Life    ......  427 

The  Commune  and  the  World       ....  434 

Concerning  the  Congress  of  Peace     .         .         .  439 

Letter  to  A.  V.  Vlasov 447 

Letter  to  a  Corporal 449 

Who  Is  to  Blame? 457 

On  Suicide 460 

A  Message  to  the  American  People  .         .         .  462 

Three  Letters   on   Reason,  Faith,  and  Prayer  463 

To  THE  Tsar  and  His  Associates          .        .        .  469 


CONTENTS 


VI 1 


PAGE 

Three  Letters  Concerning  Shopov      .         .         .  480 

The  Tolst(5y  Society  of  Manchester,  England  491 

Letter  to  an  Orthodox  Priest    ....  493 

Letter  to  a  French  Pastor          ....  496 

On  the  Franco  -  Russian  Alliance       .        .        .  498 

On  the  Street  Riots 500 

Expressions  on  the  Kishinj^v  Tragedy       .        .  502 

Letters  since  January,  1902          ....  50G 
Extracts     (From     Unpublished     Diaries,    Undated 

Letters,  Etc.)  ........  519 

The  Demands  of  Lovk 547 

tolstoyism 555 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Port.  Tolstoy  and  His  Wife      ....       Frontispiece 

Emile  Zola ^2 

Dept.  of  the  Holy  Synod  at  St.  Petersburg      .        .     227 


Tolstoy  and  his  Wife  in  the  Crimea,  1903  .       .       .     132 
Countess  Tolstoy 254 


Vol.  12. 


FIRST   RECOLLECTIONS 

1878 


FIRST  RECOLLECTIONS 

(From  unpublished  autobiographical  notes.) 


Here  are  my  first  recollections  (which  I  am  unable  to 
put  in  order,  as  I  do  not  know  what  was  first  and  what 
later.  Of  some  of  them  I  do  not  even  know  whether  they 
happened  in  a  dream  or  in  reality).  I  am  tied ;  I  want 
to  straighten  out  my  arms,  and  I  cannot  do  so,  and  I  cry 
and  weep,  and  the  cry  is  unpleasant  to  me ;  but  I  cannot 
stop.  Somebody  is  bending  over  me,  I  do  not  know  who. 
All  this  is  in  semidarkness.  But  I  remember  that  there 
were  two  of  them.  My  cry  affects  them  :  they  are  agitated 
by  my  cry,  but  they  do  not  untie  me,  which  I  want  them 
to  do,  and  I  cry  louder  still.  It  seems  to  them  that  that 
must  be  (that  is,  that  I  should  be  tied),  whereas  I  know 
that  it  need  not  be,  and  I  want  to  prove  it  to  them,  and 
I  burst  into  an  irrepressible  cry,  which  disgusts  me  with 
myself.  I  feel  the  injustice  and  cruelty,  not  of  men, 
because  they  take  pity  upon  me,  but  of  fate,  and  I  feel 
pity  for  myself.  I  do  not  know  and  shall  never  know 
what  it  was :  whether  they  swaddled  me  when  I  was  a 
suckling  babe,  and  I  tried  to  get  my  arms  free,  or  whether 
they  swaddled  me  when  I  was  more  than  a  year  old,  to 
keep  me  from  scratching  off  a  scab ;  it  may  be  that 
I  have  brought  together  a  number  of  impressions,  as  is  the 
case  in  a  dream,  but  this  much  is  sure,  —  it  was  my  first 


4  FIRST    RECOLLECTIONS 

and  most  powerful  impression  of  my  life.  And  what  I 
remember  is  not  my  cry,  my  sufferings,  but  the  complica- 
tion, the  contradictoriness  of  my  impression.  I  want 
freedom,  —  it  does  not  hurt  anybody,  and  I,  who  need 
strength,  am  weak,  and  they  are  strong. 

Another  impression  is  a  joyous  one.  I  am  sitting  in  a 
trough,  and  I  am  surrounded  by  a  not  disagreeable  odour 
of  a  substance  with  which  my  little  body  is  rubbed.  That 
must  have  been  bran,  no  doubt,  in  the  water  of  the 
trough ;  the  novelty  of  the  impression  of  the  bran  awoke 
me,  and  I  for  the  first  time  observed  and  admired  my 
little  body  with  the  visible  ribs  on  my  chest,  and  the 
smooth  dark  trough,  the  rolled-up  sleeves  of  the  nurse, 
the  warm,  steaming,  bubbling,  water,  and  its  sound,  and 
especially  the  sensation  of  softness  in  the  wet  edges  of  the 
trough,  whenever  I  drew  my  hands  over  them.  It  is 
strange  and  terrible  to  think  that  from  my  birth  to  three 
years  of  age,  during  which  time  I  nursed,  was  weaned, 
began  to  crawl,  walk,  and  talk,  I  cannot  find  any  other 
impression  than  these  two,  no  matter  how  much  I  may 
rummage  in  my  brain.  When  did  I  begin  ?  When  did  I 
begin  to  live  ?  Why  is  it  pleasurable  for  me  to  represent 
myself  then,  and  why  has  it  been  terrible,  even  as  it  is 
terrible  to  many,  to  represent  myself  at  the  time  when 
I  shall  acrain  enter  into  that  condition  of  death,  from 
which  there  will  be  no  recollections  expressible  in  words  ? 
Did  I  not  live  then,  when  I  learned  to  look,  hear,  under- 
stand, talk,  when  I  slept,  sucked  the  breast,  and  kissed 
the  breast,  and  laughed,  and  my  mother  was  happy  ?  I 
lived  and  lived  blissfully.  Was  it  not  then  that  I  acquired 
everything  I  now  live  by,  and  that  I  acquired  so  much, 
so  rapidly,  that  in  all  my  remaining  life  I  have  not  ac- 
quired one-hundredth  part  of  it  ?  From  the  time  I  was 
five  years  old  until  now  there  is  but  one  step.  From  birth 
until  five  years  of  age  there  is  an  enormous  distance. 
From  the  germ  to  the  new-born  child  there  is  an  abyss. 


FIRST   RECOLLECTIONS  O 

And  from  non-existence  to  the  germ  there  is  not  merely 
an  abyss,  but  incomprehensibility.  Not  only  are  space 
aud  time  and  cause  forms  of  reasoning,  and  not  only  does 
the  essence  of  life  exist  outside  these  forms,  —  our  whole 
life  is  a  greater  and  ever  greater  submission  of  self  to 
these  forms  and  then  again  a  liberation  from  them. 

The  next  recollections  refer  to  the  time  when  I  was 
four,  or  five  years  old,  but  even  these  are  few,  and  not  one 
of  them  refers  to  the  hfe  outside  the  walls  of  the  house. 
Up  to  five  years  of  age  Nature  does  not  exist  for  me. 
Everything  I  remember  takes  place  in  my  crib,  in  the 
nursery.  Neither  grass,  nor  leaves,  nor  sky,  nor  sun  exist 
for  me.  It  cannot  be  that  I  was  not  given  flowers  and 
leaves  to  play  with,  that  I  did  not  see  any  grass,  that  I 
was  not  protected  against  the  sun,  but  up  to  my  fifth  or 
sixth  year  I  have  not  a  single  recollection  of  what  we  call 
Nature.  Evidently  we  have  to  get  away  from  it,  to  see 
it,  and  I  was  Nature. 

The  next  recollection  after  that  of  the  trough  is  the 
recollection  of  Erem^evna.  "  Erem^evna "  was  a  word 
with  which  they  used  to  frighten  us  children.  No  doubt 
they  had  been  doing  so  for  a  long  time,  but  my  recollec- 
tion of  it  is  this  :  I  am  in  my  crib,  and  I  feel  well  and 
happy,  as  I  always  do,  and  I  should  not  have  remembered 
it,  but  suddenly  my  nurse  or  somebody  of  what  consti- 
tutes my  life  speaks  in  a  new  voice  and  goes  away,  and 
I  feel  not  only  happy,  but  also  frightened.  I  recall  that  I 
am  not  alone,  but  that  there  is  somebody  else  like  me. 
(This  was,  no  doubt,  my  sister  Mashenka,  who  was  one 
year  younger,  and  whose  crib  stood  in  the  same  room  with 
mine.)  I  recall  that  there  is  a  curtain  near  my  bed,  and 
sister  and  I  rejoice  and  tremble  at  that  unusual  thing 
which  has  happened  with  us,  and  I  hide  myself  in  my 
pillow,  and  I  hide  myself  and  look  at  the  door,  through 
which  I  expect  something  new  and  merry  to  come.  We 
laugh,    and  hide  ourselves,  and  wait.     And  here  there 


6  FIRST    PwECOLLECTIONS 

appears  some  one  in  a  skirt  and  a  cap,  as  I  never  saw  her 
before,  but  I  recognize  that  she  is  the  same  who  is  always 
with  me  (my  nurse  or  my  aunt,  I  do  not  know  which), 
and  this  some  one  says  in  a  coarse  voice,  which  I  know, 
something  terrible  about  bad  children  and  about  Eremd- 
evna.  I  scream  for  terror  and  joy  and  seem  to  be  both 
frightened  and  happy  at  feeling  terribly,  and  I  want  her 
who  frightens  me  not  to  know  that  I  have  recognized. her. 
We  grow  silent,  but  later  again  begin  on  purpose  to 
whisper  to  one  another,  in  order  to  call  Erem^evna  back. 

I  have  a  similar  recollection  of  Erem^evna,  which,  no 
doubt,  belongs  to  a  later  time,  because  it  is  more  distinct, 
though  it  has  remained  for  ever  inexplicable  to  me.  In 
this  recollection  the  chief  part  is  played  by  the  German 
Fddor  Ivanovich,  our  teacher,  but  I  know  for  certain  that 
I  am  not  yet  under  his  supervision,  —  hence  this  takes 
place  before  I  am  five  years  old.  This  is  my  first  impres- 
sion of  r^dor  Ivanovich.  It  takes  place  so  early  that  I 
do  not  yet  remember  any  one,  neither  my  brothers,  nor 
my  father,  nor  any  one  else.  If  I  have  any  idea  about 
some  individual  person,  it  is  about  my  sister,  and  this  only 
because  she,  like  me,  was  afraid  of  Erem^evna.  With  this 
recollection  there  is  united  my  first  idea  that  there  is  an 
upper  story  to  our  house.  How  I  got  there,  whether  I 
went  there  myself,  who  carried  me  there,  I  do  not  remem- 
ber about  that,  but  I  do  remember  that  there  are  many  of 
us,  that  we  all  hold  each  other's  hands  in  a  circle,  that 
among  these  there  are  some  strange  women  (for  some 
reason  I  know  that  they  are  laundresses),  and  we  all  begin 
to  whirl  about  and  jump,  and  E^dor  Ivanovich  jumps, 
raising  his  legs  too  high  and  too  noisily,  and  I  feel  at  the 
same  moment  that  this  is  not  good  and  is  immoral,  and  T 
take  note  of  him,  and,  it  seems  to  me,  begin  to  weep,  and 
everything  is  over. 

This  is  all  I  remember  up  to  my  fifth  year.  I  do  not 
remember  my  nurses,  aunts,  brothers,  sisters,  or  my  father, 


FIRST    RECOLLECTIONS  i 

or  the  rooms,  or  my  toys.  My  more  definite  recollections 
beo-in  with  the  time  when  I  was  taken  down-stairs  to 
F^dor  Ivanovich  and  the  older  boys. 

As  I  was  transferred  down-stairs  to  FMor  Ivanovich 
and  the  boys,  I  experienced  for  the  first  time,  and   so 
more  strongly  than  ever,  the  sensation  which  is  called  the 
sense  of  honour,  the  sense  of  the  cross  which  each  of  us  is 
called  to  bear.     I  felt  sorry  to  give  up  what  was  habitual 
(habitual  since   eternity);    I  felt   sorry,  poetically  sorry, 
not  so  much  to  part  from    people,  from  my  sister,  my 
nurse,  my  aunt,  as  from  my  crib,  the  curtain,  the  pillow, 
and  I  was  afraid  of  the  life  into  which  I  was  entering.     I 
tried  to  discover  something  jolly  in  the  life  which  awaited 
me  ;   I  tried  to  believe  in   the  kind  words  with  which 
F^dor  Ivanovich  tried  to  entice  me ;  I  tried  not  to  notice 
the   contempt   with   which   the    boys    received    me,    the 
younger  boy  ;  I  tried  to  think  that  it  was  a  disgrace  for  a 
big  boy  to  live  in  the  same  room  with  girls  and  that  there 
had  been  nothing  nice  in  that  life  up-stairs  with  the  nurse ; 
but  I  felt  frightfully  sad,  and  I  knew  that  I  was  irretriev- 
ably losing   my  innocence  and  happiness,  and  only  the 
feeling  of  my  own  dignity,  the  consciousness  that  I  was 
doing  my  duty,  sustained  my  courage.     Later  in  life  I 
have  frequently  had  occasion  to  experience  such  minutes 
on  the  cross-roads  of  life,  when  entering  upon  a  new  path. 
I  used  to  experience  calm  grief  at  the  irretrievableness  of 
what  is  lost.      I  somehow  could   not  believe   that  this 
would  be.     Though  I  had  been  told  that  I  should  be 
taken  to  the  boys,  I  remember  that  the  cloak  with  a  belt 
sewed  on  the  back,  which  they  put  on  me,  as  it  were  for 
ever  cut  me  off  from  up-stairs,  and  I  now  for  the  first 
time  observed,  not  all  the  persons  with  whom  I  had  been 
living,  but  only  the  chief  person,  whom  I  had  paid  no 

attention  to  before.     This  was  aunty  T A .     I 

remember  her  as  tall,  plump,  black-haired,  kindly,  tender, 
compassionate.     As  she  put  on  my  cloak  and  fastened 


8  FIRST    RECOLLECTIONS 

the  belt,  she  embraced  me  and  kissed  me,  and  I  saw  that 
she  felt,  like  me,  that  it  was  a  pity,  a  great  pity,  but 
that  it  had  to  be.  For  the  first  time  I  felt  that  life  was 
not  play,  but  hard  work.  Shall  I  not  understand  the 
same  when  I  shall  be  dying?  Shall  I  not  understand 
that  death,  or  the  future  life,  is  not  play,  but  hard  work  1 
May  5, 1878. 


CHURCH   AND   STATE 

i88a 


CHURCH  AND  STATE 


Faith  is  the  meaning  given  to  life;  it  is  that  which 
gives  force  and  direction  to  life.  Every  living  man  finds 
this  meaning  and  lives  upon  its  basis.  If  he  does  not 
find  it,  he  dies.  In  the  search  after  it  man  makes  use  of 
everything  worked  out  by  humanity.  All  this  which  is 
worked  out  by  humanity  is  called  revelation.  Eevela- 
tion  is  what  helps  man  to  understand  the  meaning  of  life. 
Such  is  man's  relation  to  faith. 

What  a  remarkable  thing  !  There  appear  men  who  do 
their  level  best  to  get  people  to  make  use  of  this,  rather 
than  of  that,  form  of  revelation ;  they  cannot  rest  until 
others  will  accept  their  particular  form  of  revelation ; 
they  curse,  punish,  kill  all  the  dissenters  they  can  reach. 
Others  do  the  same :  they  curse,  punish,  kill  all  the  dis- 
senters they  can  reach.  Others  again  do  the  same.  And 
tluis  they  all  curse,  punish,  kill  one  another,  each  demand- 
ing that  all  should  believe  just  like  them.  And  it  turns 
out  that  there  ire  hundreds  of  faiths,  and  they  all  curse, 
punish,  and  kill  one  another. 

At  first  I  was  startled  and  I  marvelled  how  it  was  that 
such  an  obvious  absurdity,  such  an  obvious  contradiction, 
did  not  destroy  faith  itself.  How  could  believing  people 
remain  in  this  deception  ? 

Indeed,  from  the  general  point  of  view  it  is  incompre- 
hensible, and  it  proves  incontestably  that  every  faith  is  a 

11 


12  CHURCH   AND    STATE 

deception  and  that  all  this  is  a  superstition,  as  is  proved 
by  the  now  reigning  philosophy.  Looking  from  the  gen- 
eral point  of  view,  I,  too,  arrived  incontestably  at  the 
recognition  of  this,  that  all  faiths  are  human  deceptions. 
But  I  could  not  help  but  stop  at  the  reflection  that  the 
very  stupidity  of  the  deception,  its  obviousness,  and  yet 
the  fact  that  all  humanity  submits  to  it,  —  that  all  that 
showed  that  at  the  base  of  this  deception  there  was  some- 
thing which  was  not  deceptive.  Otherwise  everything 
was  so  foolish  that  it  was  impossible  to  be  deceived. 
Even  the  submission  to  the  deception,  a  submission  com- 
mon to  all  humanity  living  a  true  life,  made  me  recognize 
the  importance  of  the  phenomenon  which  served  as  a 
cause  of  the  deception ;  and  in  consequence  of  this  con- 
viction I  began  to  analyze  the  Christian  teaching  which 
served  as  a  foundation  for  the  deception  of  the  whole  of 
Christian  humanity. 

This  was  the  result  from  the  general  point  of  view ;  but 
from  the  personal  point  of  view,  from  the  one  in  conse- 
quence of  which  every  man  and  I,  too,  in  order  to  live, 
must  have  faith  in  the  meaning  of  life,  and  does  have 
faith,  —  this  phenomenon  of  violence  in  matters  of  faith 
is  still  more  striking  by  its  absurdity. 

Indeed,  how,  why,  for  whom  is  it  necessary  that  another 
should  not  only  believe,  but  also  profess  his  faith  like 
myself  ?  A  man  lives,  consequently  he  knows  the  mean- 
ing of  hfe.  He  has  established  his  relation  to  God,  he 
knows  the  truth  of  truths,  and  I  know  the  truth  of  truths. 
Their  expression  may  be  different,  the  essence  must  be  one 
and  the  same,  —  we  are  both  men. 

How,  why,  what  can  compel  me  to  demand  of  any  one 
that  he  shall  express  hts  truth  precisely  as  I  do  ? 

I  cannot  compel  a  man  to  change  his  behef  either  by 
violence,  or  by  cunning,  or  by  deception  (false  miracles). 

Faith  is  his  life,  —  how  then  can  I  take  his  faith  from 
him  and  give  him  another  ?     It  is  the  same  as  taking  his 


CHUKCH   AND    STATE  13 

heart  out  of  him  and  putting  in  another.  I  can  do  so 
only  when  his  faith  and  mine  are  words,  and  not  what  he 
lives  by,  —  an  excrescence,  and  not  a  heart.  This  cannot 
be  done  for  this  reason  also,  that  it  is  impossible  to  deceive 
a  man  or  make  a  man  believe  in  what  he  does  not  beheve,- 
impossible,  because  he  who  believes,  that  is,  who  has 
established  his  relations  to  God  and  so  knows  that  faith 
is  man's  relation  to  God,  cannot  wish  to  estabhsh  the 
relation  of  another  man  to  God  by  means  of  violence  or 
deception.  This  is  impossible,  but  it  is  done,  has  been 
done  everywhere  and  at  all  times,  that  is,  it  could  not 
be  done,  because  it  is  impossible,  but  something  has  been 
done  which  resembles  it  very  much ;  what  has  been  done 
is  this,  that  men  foist  upon  others  a  semblance  of  faith, 
and  the  others  accept  this  semblance  of  faith,  that  is,  the 
deception  of  faith. 

Faith  cannot  be  foisted  upon  any  one  and  cannot  be 
accepted  on  account  of  anything :  of  violence,  deception, 
or  advantage ;  and  so  it  is  not  faith,  but  a  deception  of 
faith.  It  is  this  deception  of  faith  which  is  an  old  con- 
dition of  the  life  of  humanity. 

In  what  does  this  deception  consist  and  on  what  is  it 
based  ?  By  what  is  it  evoked  for  the  deceivers,  and  by 
what  does  it  maintain  itself  for  the  deceived  ?  I  will  not 
speak  of  Brahmanism,  Buddhism,  Confucianism,  Moham- 
medanism, in  which  there  were  the  same  phenomena,  not 
because  it  would  be  impossible  to  find  the  same  here :  to 
any  one  reading  about  these  rehgions  it  will  be  clear  that 
in  these  faiths  the  same  happened  as  in  Christianity ;  but 
I  will  speak  exclusively  of  Christianity,  as  of  a  faith 
known,  necessary,  and  dear  to  us.  In  Christianity  the 
whole  deception  is  built  upon  the  fantastic  conception 
of  the  church,  which  is  based  upon  nothing  and  w^hich 
from  the  beginning  of  the  study  of  Christianity  startles 
one  by  its  unexpected  and  useless  absurdity. 

Among  all  the  impious  conceptions  and  words  there  is 


14  CHURCH   AND   STATE 

not  a  conception  or  word  more  impious  than  the  concep- 
tion of  the  church.  There  is  not  a  conception  which  has 
created  more  evil  than  the  conception  of  the  church.  In 
reality  the  word  means  an  assembly  and  nothing  more, 
and  is  in  this  sense  used  in  the  gospels.  In  the  lan- 
guages of  all  the  modern  nations  the  word  ecclesia  signifies 
a  house  of  prayer. 

Beyond  these  meanings  this  word,  in  spite  of  the  fifteen 
hundred  years  of  the  existence  of  the  deception  of  the 
church,  has  not  penetrated  into  any  language.  From  the 
definitions  given  to  this  word  by  the  priests  who  need 
the  deception  of  the  church  it  turns  out  that  it  is  a  pref- 
ace which  says :  "  Everything  which  I  am  going  to  say 
now  is  the  truth,  and  if  you  do  not  believe  it,  I  will  have 
you  burned,  and  will  curse  and  in  every  way  offend  you." 
This  conception  is  a  sophism  which  is  necessary  for  cer- 
tain dialectical  purposes,  and  it  remains  the  possession  of 
those  who  need  it.  This  conception  does  not  exist  at  all 
among  the  people,  either  among  the  masses,  or  in  society 
and  in  the  midst  of  cultured  people,  although  it  is  taught 
in  the  catechisms.  This  definition  —  it  is  really  a  shame 
to  have  to  analyze  it,  but  it  has  to  be  done,  because  "so 
many  people  give  it  out  so  seriously  as  something  very 
important  —  is  absolutely  false.  When  it  is  said  that 
the  church  is  an  assembly  of  true  believers,  nothing  is 
really  said  (to  say  nothing  of  the  fantastically  dead), 
because,  if  I  say  that  an  orchestra  is  an  assembly  of  all 
the  true  musicians,  I  have  said  nothing,  if  I  do  not  say 
what  I  mean  by  true  musicians.  But  according  to  theol- 
ogy it  turns  out  that  the  true  believers  are  those  who 
follow  the  teaching  of  the  church,  that  is,  who  are  in  the 
church. 

To  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  there  are  hundreds  of 
such  true  faiths,  the  definition  does  not  say  anything, 
and,  it  would  seem,  is  as  useless  as  the  definition  of  the 
orchestra  as  an  assembly  of  true  musicians ;  but  one  im- 


CHURCH   AND    STATE  15 

mediately  sees  the  point  of  the  ear  behind  all  this.  The 
church  is  true  and  one,  and  in  it  are  the  pastors  and 
the  flock;  and  the  God-ordained  pastors  teach  this  true 
and  one  doctrine,  that  is :  "  Upon  my  word,  everything 
we  are  going  to  say  is  the  truth."  There  is  nothing  else. 
The  whole  deception  is  in  this,  —  in  the  word  and  the 
conception  of  the  church.  And  the  meaning  of  this  de- 
ception is  only  this,  that  there  are  people  who  are  dread- 
fully anxious  to  teach  their  faith  to  others. 

Why  are  they  so  anxious  to  teach  their  faith  to  other 
people?  If  they  had  the  true  faith,  they  would  know 
that  faith  is  the  meaning  of  life,  the  relation  to  God, 
established  by  every  man,  and  that,  therefore,  it  is  im- 
possible to  teach  a  faith,  but  only  the  deception  of  faith. 
But  they  want  to  teach.  What  for?  The  simplest 
answer  would  be  that  the  pope  needs  cakes  and  eggs,  the 
bishop  —  a  palace,  fish  pie,  silk  vestments.  But  this 
answer  is  insufficient.  Such,  no  doubt,  was  the  inward, 
psychological  impulse  for  the  deception,  an  impulse  which 
supported  the  deception;  but,  analyzing  in  this  manner, 
how  could  one  man  (an  executioner)  have  decided  to  kill 
another  man,  against  whom  he  has  no  malice  ?  It  would 
be  insufficient  to  say  that  the  executioner  kills,  because 
he  is  given  whiskey,  a  white  loaf,  and  a  red  shirt ;  even 
so  it  would  be  insufficient  to  say  that  the  Metropolitan  of 
Kiev  with  his  monks  fills  bags  with  hay,  calhng  them 
saintly  relics,  only  for  the  purpose  of  having  an  income 
of  thirty  thousand  roubles.  Both  actions  are  too  terrible 
and  too  contrary  to  human  nature,  for  such  a  simple, 
coarse  explanation  to  be  sufficient.  Both  the  executioner 
and  the  metropolitan  will,  in  explaining  their  acts,  adduce 
a  whole  series  of  proofs,  the  chief  foundation  of  which 
will  be  historic  tradition.  "  A  man  must  be  executed,  — 
men  have  been  executed  ever  since  tlie  beginning  of  the 
world.  If  not  I,  another  will.  I  will  do  it,  I  hope,  with 
God's  aid,  better  than  any  one  else ! "     Even  so  will  the 


16  CHUKCH   AND   STATE 

metropolitan  speak :  "  External  worship  is  necessary,  — 
saintly  relics  have  been  worshipped  ever  since  the  begin- 
ning of  the  world.  People  worship  the  rehcs  of  the 
Grottoes  and  have  been  coming  here.  If  not  I,  another 
man  will  manage  things  here.  I  hope,  with  God's  aid,  to 
be  able  to  put  to  better  God-pleasing  use  the  money 
obtained  in  a  blasphemous  manner." 

To  understand  the  deception  of  faith,  it  is  necessary  to 
go  to  its  beginning  and  source. 

We  speak  of  what  we  know  of  Christianity.  Turning 
to  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  teaching  in  the  gospels, 
we  find  that  the  teaching  directly  excludes  external  di- 
vine worship,  condemns  it,  and  in  particular  clearly  and 
positively  denies  every  teachership.  But  since  Christ's 
time  and  nearer  to  our  own  times,  we  find  a  departure 
of  the  doctrine  from  these  foundations,  as  laid  down  by 
Christ.  This  departure  begins  with  the  times  of  the  apos- 
tles and  especially  with  Paul,  the  lover  of  the  teacher- 
ship  ;  and  the  farther  Christianity  is  spread,  the  more  and 
more  it  deviates  and  adopts  those  very  methods  of  exter- 
nal divine  worship  and  teachership,  the  negation  of  which 
is  so  positively  expressed  by  Christ.  But  in  the  first 
times  of  Christianity  the  conception  of  the  church  is 
used  only  as  a  representation  of  all  those  who  share  the 
behef  which  I  regard  as  the  true  one.  The  conception  is 
quite  correct,  so  long  as  it  does  not  include  the  expres- 
sion of  belief  in  words,  but  means  the  expression  of  it  in 
one's  whole  life,  since  a  belief  cannot  be  expressed  in 
words. 

The  concept  of  the  true  church  was  also  used  as  an 
argument  against  dissenters.  But  previous  to  Emperor 
Constantine  and  the  Nicene  Council  the  church  is  only 
a  concept.  Since  the  time  of  Emperor  Constantine  and 
the  Nicene  Council  the  church  has  become  an  act,  —  an 
act  of  deception.  That  deception  of  the  metropohtans 
with   the   relics,  of   the   popes   with   the   Eucharist,  of 


CHUECn   AOT)   STATE  17 

the  Iberian  Virgin,  of  the  Synods,  and  so  forth,  decep- 
tions which,  for  their  njonstrousness,  startle  and  frighten 
lis  so,  begin  in  nothing  but  the  advantage  of  these  per- 
sons. It  is  an  old  deception,  and  it  did  not  begin  with 
the  advantages  to  individual  persons  merely ;  there  does 
not  exist  a  man  so  execrable  as  to  have  the  courage  to 
do  so,  if  he  were  the  first  and  if  there  were  no  other 
causes.  The  causes  which  led  to  it  were  bad.  "  By  their 
fruit  ye  shall  know  them."  The  beginning  was  evil, — 
hatred,  human  pride,  enmity  against  Arius  and  others ; 
and  another,  a  still  greater  evil,  was  the  union  of  the 
Christians  with  the  temporal  power.  The  temporal  power, 
Emperor  Constantino,  who  according  to  the  pagan  con- 
ceptions stands  upon  the  height  of  human  greatness  (he 
is  counted  among  the  gods),  accepts  Christianity,  gives  the 
whole  nation  an  example,  converts  the  people,  and  lends 
a  helping  hand  against  the  heretics  and  by  means  of 
an  ecumenical  council  established  the  one  true  Christian 
faith. 

The  Christian  Catholic  faith  is  established  for  ever. 
So  natural  it  was  to  submit  to  this  deception,  and  up  to 
now  people  believe  in  the  saving  power  of  this  event, 
whereas  it  was  an  event  when  the  majority  of  Christians 
renounced  their  faith.  Those  were  the  cross-roads,  where 
the  vast  majority  of  Christians  took  the  pagan  road  on 
which  they  continue  to  travel  until  the  present  time. 
Charlemagne  and  Vladimir  did  the  same. 

And  the  deception  of  the  church  is  continued  until 
the  present,  a  deception  which  consists  in  this,  that  the 
acceptance  of  Christianity  by  the  temporal  power  is  nec- 
essary for  those  who  understand  the  letter  and  not  the 
spirit  of  Christianity,  because  the  acceptance  of  Christian- 
ity without  the  renunciation-  of  power  is  a  scoffing  at 
Christianity  and  a  corruption  of  it. 

The  sanctification  of  the  power  of  state  by  Christianity 
is  a  blasphemy,  a  ruin  of  Christianity. 


18  CHURCH   AND   STATE 

Having  for  fifteen  hundred  years  lived  under  this  hlas- 
phemous  union  of  putative  Christianity  and  the  state,  we 
have  to  make  a  great  effort,  in  order  to  forget  all  the 
complex  sophisms  by  means  of  which  the  whole  teaching 
of  Christ  has  for  fifteen  hundred  years  been  everywhere 
distorted,  so  as  to  please  the  temporal  power,  to  make 
its  peace  with  the  state,  by  trying  to  explain  the  sanctity 
of  the  state  and  its  possibility  of  being  Christian. 

In  reality  the  v/ords  "  Christian  state  "  are  the  same  as 
the  words  "  warm,  hot  ice."  Either  there  is  no  state,  or 
there  is  no  Christianity. 

To  understand  this  clearly,  it  is  necessary  to  forget  all 
those  fancies  in  which  we  are  carefully  educated,  and  to 
ask  directly  for  the  meaning  of  those  historical  aud  jurid- 
ical sciences  which  we  are  taught.  These  sciences  have 
no  foundations  at  all ;  they  are  all  nothing  but  an  apology 
for  violence. 

We  shall  pass  by  the  history  of  the  Persians,  Medes, 
and  so  forth,  and  shall  take  the  history  of  the  state  which 
was  the  first  to  form  a  union  with  Christianity. 

There  was  a  robbers'  den  in  Rome;  it  grew  through 
rapine,  violence,  and  murder;  it  conquered  the  nations. 
The  robbers  and  their  descendants,  with  their  leaders, 
whom  they  now  called  Csesar,  now  Augustus,  at  their 
head,  robbed  and  tortured  the  nations  for  the  gratification 
of  their  lusts.  One  of  the  heirs  of  these  robber  leaders, 
Constantine,  who  had  read  a  lot  of  books  and  had  grown 
weary  of  his  lustful  life,  preferred  certain  dogmas  of 
Christianity  to  his  former  beliefs,  —  he  preferred  the  mass 
to  the  sacrificing  of  human  victims,  and  the  worship  of  the 
one  God,  with  his  Son  Christ,  to  that  of  Apollo,  Venus, 
and  Zeus,  and  ordered  this  faith  to  be  introduced  among 
those  whom  he  kept  under  his  power. 

"  Kings  rule  over  the  nations,  —  not  thus  should  it  be 
among  you  :  thou  shalt  not  kill,  thou  shalt  not  commit 
adultery,    thou    shalt   not   have   riches,   thou    shalt    not 


CHURCH    AND    STATE  19 

judge,  thou  shalt  not  condemn,  suffer  evil,"  —  nobody  told 
him  all  that. 

All  he  was  told  was :  "  Do  you  want  to  be  called  a 
Christian  and  to  remain  a  leader  of  robbers,  —  to  beat, 
burn,  wage  war,  fornicate,  execute,  live  in  luxury  ?  You 
may." 

And  they  arranged  a  Christianity  for  him,  and  they 
arranged  it  pleasantly,  better  than  could  have  been  ex- 
pected. They  foresaw  that,  if  he  read  the  Gospel,  he  might 
come  to  see  that  all  that  was  demanded  there  was  a 
Christian  hfe,  and  not  the  rearing  of  temples  and  attend- 
ance in  them.  They  foresaw  this,  and  carefully  arranged 
for  him  such  a  Christianity  that  he  was  able,  without 
putting  himself  out,  to  live  as  of  old,  in  pagan  fashion. 
Indeed,  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  came  for  the  very  pur- 
pose of  redeeming  him  and  everybody  else.  It  was 
because  Christ  died,  that  Constantine  could  hve  as  he 
pleased.  More  than  that :  he  could  repent  and  swallow  a 
piece  of  bread  soaked  in  wine,  and  that  would  be  his  sal- 
vation, and  everything  would  be  forgiven. 

More  than  that :  they  even  sanctified  his  robber's 
power  and  said  that  it  was  from  God,  and  anointed  him 
with  oil.  For  this  he,  at  their  wish,  arranged  an  assem- 
bly of  the  priests,  and  commanded  them  to  say  what  should 
be  man's  relation  to  God,  and  commanded  that  every  man 
should  repeat  this. 

And  they  repeated  it  and  were  satisfied,  and  so  this 
faith  has  existed  for  fifteen  hundred  years,  and  other 
leaders  of  robber  bands  introduced  it,  and  they  are  all 
anointed,  and  everything,  everything  is  from  God.  (In 
our  country  a  murderess  of  her  husband,  a  harlot,  was 
from  God,  and  in  France  Napoleon  was  from  God.) 

And  for  this  the  priests  are  not  only  from  God,  but 
almost  Gods  themselves,  because  in  them  sits  the  Holy 
Ghost.  And  He  sits  also  in  the  Pope,  and  in  our  Synod 
with  its  commanders,  the  officials. 


20  CHURCH   AND   STATE 

And  when  an  anointed  person,  that  is,  the  leader  of  a 
band  of  robbers,  wants  to  strike  down  his  own  people 
or  a  foreign  nation,  they  hurry  to  make  some  holy  water 
for  him,  sprinkle  with  it  the  cross  (the  one  on  which 
Christ,  having  carried  it,  died  for  having  denied  these  very 
robbers),  and  will  bless  him  in  his  killing,  hanging,  chop- 
ping off  of  heads. 

All  would  have  been  well,  but  they  could  not  agree, 
and  the  anointed  persons  began  to  call  one  another 
robbers,  —  which  they  really  are,  —  and  the  people  began 
to  hsten,  and  stopped  believing  in  the  anointed  persons 
and  the  guardians  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  learned  from 
them  to  call  them,  as  is  proper  and  as  they  call  them- 
selves, that  is,  robbers  and  cheats. 

But  the  robbers  I  only  mention  in  passing,  because 
they  have  corrupted  the  cheats.  What  I  have  been 
speaking  about  is  the  cheats,  the  so-called  Christians. 
Such  they  became  through  their  union  with  the  robbers ; 
nor  could  it  be  otherwise.  They  lost  the  road  the 
moment  they  sanctified  the  first  king  and  assured  him 
that  with  his  violence  he  was  able  to  aid  the  faith,  —  the 
faith  about  meekness,  self-renunciation,  and  endurance  of 
insults.  The  whole  history  of  the  real  church,  not  the 
fantastic  church,  that  is,  the  history  of  the  hierarchy 
under  the  power  of  the  kings,  is  a  series  of  vain  endeavours 
on  the  part  of  this  unfortunate  hierarchy  to  preserve  the 
truth  of  the  teaching,  by  preaching  it  through  the  lie  and 
departing  from  it  in  deeds.  The  meaning  of  the  hierarchy 
is  based  only  on  the  doctrine  which  it  wishes  to  teach. 
The  teaching  speaks  of  meekness,  self-renunciation,  love, 
poverty ;  but  the  teaching  is  preached  by  means  of  violence 
and  evil. 

For  the  hierarchy  to  have  something  to  teach  and  to 
have  disciples,  it  must  not  renounce  the  teaching;  but 
to  clear  itself  and  its  illegitimate  union  with  the  power, 
it  must  by  every  cunning  device  conceal  the  essence  of 


CHURCH   AND    STATE  21 

the  teaching,  and  so  transfer  the  centre  of  gravity  of  the 
teaching  from  the  essence  of  the  teaching  to  its  external 
side.  That  is  precisely  what  is  done  by  the  hierarchy, 
the  source  of  that  deception  of  faith  which  is  preached 
by  the  church.  The  source  is  the  union  of  the  hierarchy, 
under  the  name  of  the  church,  with  the  power,  —  with 
violence.  The  source  of  people's  wishing  to  teach  the 
faith  to  others  is  in  this,  that  the  true  faith  arraigns  them, 
and  they  are  obliged  for  the  true  faith  to  substitute  their 
own  invented  faith,  which  can  justify  them. 

The  true  faith  may  be  anywhere,  except  where  the 
faith  is  obviously  false,  that  is,  of  the  nature  of  violence,  — 
it  cannot  be  in  the  state  rehgion.  True  faith  may  be  in  all 
so-called  schisms,  heresies,  but  certainly  cannot  be  where 
it  has  united  with  the  state.  Strange  to  say,  the  appella- 
tions, "  Orthodox,  Catholic,  Protestant  faith,"  as  estabhshed 
in  common  speech,  mean  nothing  but  "  faith  united  with 
the  temporal  power,"  state  rehgion,  and  so  are  false. 

The  concept  of  the  church,  that  is,  of  the  agreement  of 
many,  of  the  majority,  and  at  the  same  time  its  nearness 
to  the  source  of  the  teaching  in  the  first  two  centuries  of 
Christianity,  was  only  one  of  the  poor  external  proofs. 
Paul  said,  "  I  know  from  Christ  Himself."  Another  said, 
"  I  know  from  Luke."  And  all  said,  "  We  think  correctly, 
and  the  proof  that  we  do  is  this,  —  there  is  a  large 
assembly  of  us,  ccdesia,  the  church."  But  it  is  only  with 
the  Council  at  Nicsea,  which  was  established  by  the 
emperor,  that  for  a  part  of  those  who  professed  the  same 
teaching  there  began  the  direct  and  palpable  deception. 

"  It  seemed  good  to  us  and  to  the  Holy  Ghost,"  they 
began  to  say  then.  The  concept  of  the  church  not  only 
remained  a  poor  argument,  but  even  became  a  power  for 
some  people.  It  united  with  the  temporal  power  and  began 
to  act  as  a  power.  And  everything  which  united  with 
the  temporal  power  and  fell  under  its  sway  stopped  being 
faith  and  became  a  deception. 


22  CHUKCH    AND    STATE 

What  does  Christianity  teach,  regarding  it  as  a  teaching 
of  any  church  or  of  all  the  churches  ? 

Analyze  by  mixing  or  subdividing  it,  as  you  please,  and 
the  whole  Christian  teaching  immediately  divides  up  into 
two  distinct  parts,  the  doctrine  of  the  dogmas,  beginning 
with  the  divine  Son,  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  relation  between 
these  persons,  and  ending  with  the  Eucharist  with  wine 
or  without  wine,  leavened  or  unleavened  bread,  and  the 
moral  teaching :  of  meekness,  abstinence  from  litigation, 
bodily  and  spiritual  purity,  non-condemnation,  liberation 
from  the  fetters  of  slavery,  and  love  of  peace.  No  matter 
how  much  the  teachers  of  the  church  tried  to  mix  these 
two  sides  of  the  teaching,  they  never  did  mingle,  and, 
like  butter  separating  from  water,  always  keep  apart  as 
large  and  small  drops. 

The  difference  between  these  two  sides  of  the  teaching 
is  clear  for  anybody,  and  anybody  may  observe  the  fruits 
of  either  side  of  the  teaching  in  the  lives  of  the  nations, 
and  may  from  these  fruits  conclude  which  side  is  more 
important  and,  if  it  be  allowable  to  speak  of  "  more  true," 
which  is  more  true.  Looking  upon  the  history  of  Chris- 
tianity from  this  side,  one  is  horror-struck.  Without 
exception,  from  the  very  beginning  to  the  very  end,  up  to 
our  own  time,  no  matter  what  dogma  we  may  view,  even 
beginning  with  the  first,  the  dogma  of  Christ's  divinity, 
down  to  the  folding  of  the  fingers,  the  communion  with 
wine  and  without  wine,  the  fruits  of  all  these  mental 
labours,  used  for  the  elucidation  of  the  dogmas,  are : 
malice,  hatred,  executions,  expulsions,  the  murder  of 
women  and  children,  the  stake,  tortures.  Looking  upon 
the  other  side  of  the  moral  teaching,  from  the  removal 
to  the  wilderness  for  the  purpose  of  communing  with  God 
to  the  custom  of  distributing  white  loaves  in  the  prisons, 
we  find  the  fruits  of  this  to  be :  all  our  concepts  of  good- 
ness, all  that  joy  and  comfort,  which  serves  us  as  a  torch 
in  history.  — 


CHURCH    AND    STATE  23 

It  was  possible  for  those  people  to  err  before  whose  eyes 
the  fruits  of  either  had  not  yet  become  evident,  and  it  was 
even  impossible  not  to  err.  It  was  even  possible  for 
those  to  err  who  were  sincerely  drawn  into  these  disputes 
about  the  dogmas,  without  noticing  that  with  these  dogmas 
they  were  only  serving  the  devil,  and  not  God,  without 
noticing  that  Christ  had  expressly  said  that  he  came  to 
destroy  all  dogmas.  It  was  also  possible  for  those  to  err 
who,  having  inherited  the  traditions  about  the  importance 
of  these  dogmas,  received  such  a  perverse  mental  educa- 
tion that  they  could  not  see  their  error ;  and  it  is  possible 
for  those  ignorant  people  to  err,  to  whom  these  dogmas 
mean  nothing  but  words  or  fantastic  representations.  But 
for  us,  to  whom  the  first  meaning  of  the  Gospel,  which 
denies  all  dogmas,  is  revealed,  for  us  who  have  before  our 
eyes  the  fruits  of  these  dogmas  in  history,  for  us  it  is 
impossible  to  err.  History  is  for  us  a  verification  of  the 
authenticity  of  the  teaching,  it  is  even  a  mechanical  veri- 
fication. 

Is  the  dogma  of  the  immaculate  conception  of  the 
Virgin  necessary,  or  not  ?  What  came  from  it  ?  Malice, 
curses,  scoffing.  Has  it  been  of  any  use  ?  None.  Is  the 
doctrine  about  not  punishing  the  harlot  necessary,  or  not  ? 
What  came  from  it  ?  Thousands  and  thousands  of  times 
men  have  been  softened  by  this  reminder. 

Again  :  do  all  men  agree  on  any  of  the  dogmas  ?  No. 
Do  all  agree  that  to  him  who  asks  should  be  given  ? 
Yes. 

Now,  the  first,  the  dogmas,  on  which  all  men  do  not 
agree,  which  are  of  no  use  to  any  one,  which  ruin  men, 
are  what  the  hierarchy  has  been  giving  out  as  faith ;  and 
the  second,  what  all  men  agree  upon,  what  all  men  need, 
and  what  saves  men,  this  the  hierarchy,  without  daring  to 
deny  it,  has  not  dared  to  advance  as  the  teaching,  because 
this  teaching  denied  the  hierarchy  itself. 

1882. 


TO    N.    N.    GE'S    (GAY'S) 
PAINTING 


1886 


TO    N.    N.    GE'S   (GAY'S) 
PAINTING 

Christ's  Last  Discourse  with  His  Disciples 


At  the  top  of  the  painting : 

"  A  new  commandment  I  give  unto  you.  That  ye  love 
one  another ;  as  I  have  loved  you,  that  ye  also  love  one 
another." 

At  the  edges,  extracts  from  the  Gospel  of  John,  Chap. 
XIII.  1-35. 

Beneath : 

Jesus  said :  "  Ye  have  heard  that  it  hath  been  said, 
Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour,  and  hate  thine  enemy  ;  but 
I  say  unto  you,  Love  your  enemies." 

At  the  last  supper  Jesus  showed  this  in  his  acts. 

After  washing  the  feet  of  His  twelve  disciples,  He  said : 
"  I  have  given  you  an  example,  that  ye  should  do  as  I 
have  done  to  you." 

What  was  it  that  Jesus  did,  and  what  was  the  example 
which  He  gave  to  His  disciples  ? 

When  after  the  supper  Jesus  began  to  wash  the  feet  of 
His  disciples,  and  Simon  Peter  wanted  to  oppose  Him,  He 
said  to  him :  "  What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now ;  but 
thou  shalt  know  hereafter.     Ye  are  clean,  but  not  all." 

Neither  Simon  Peter,  nor  the  other  disciples  understood 
what  Jesus  was  doing,  when,  kneeling  before  them,  he 
washed  their  feet. 

27 


28  CHRIST*S    LAST   DISCOURSE 

After  having  washed  the  feet  of  His  betrayer,  Jesus  got 
up,  put  on  His  garment,  and,  sitting  down  again,  said : 

"  Know  ye  what  I  have  done  to  ye  ?  Ye  call  me 
Master,  and  ye  say  well,  for  so  I  am." 

But  they  knew  not  that  Judas  was  the  traitor,  and  did 
not  understand  what  Jesus  did  or  taught  them. 

Then,  being  troubled  in  spirit,  Jesus  said : 

"  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  that  one  of  you  will 
betray  me." 

And  again  they  did  not  understand  what  He  did,  or 
what  He  said  to  them.  They  only  looked  one  on  another, 
doubting  of  whom  He  spake. 

Meanwhile  the  favourite  disciple  of  Jesus  was  leaning 
on  His  bosom.  But  Simon  Peter,  raising  himself,  mo- 
tioned to  the  favourite  disciple,  that  he  should  ask  the 
Teacher  of  whom  He  spoke.  And  the  favourite  disciple, 
leaning  on  Jesus'  breast,  asked  Him. 

But  Jesus  did  not  give  a  direct  answer.  He  knew  that 
if  He  named  His  enemy,  His  disciples  would  be  provoked 
and  would  wish  to  rebuke  the  traitor.  But,  wishing  to  save 
Judas,  and  not  to  ruin  him,  Jesus,  instead  of  answering, 
stretched  out  His  hand,  took  a  piece  of  bread,  and'  said 
softly  :  "  He  it  is  to  whom  I  shall  give  a  sop,  when  I  have 
dipped  it."  And  when  He  had  given  the  sop  to  Judas, 
He  said :  "  That  thou  doest,  do  quickly."  The  disciples, 
hearing  this,  thought  that  Jesus  sent  Judas  to  town  to 
buy  something  that  He  had  need  of  against  the  feast. 
But  Judas  understood  tliat  He  was  saving  him  from  the 
wrath  of  His  disciples,  and  immediately  rose. 

It  is  this  that  is  represented  in  the  painting. 

The  favourite  disciple,  John,  alone  knows  who  the 
traitor  is.  He  leaped  up  from  his  seat  and  stared  at 
Judas.  He  does  not  understand,  does  not  believe,  that  a 
living  man  can  hate  Him  who  loves  him.  He  is  sorry 
for  the  unfortunate  man,  and  is  horrified  at  the  same 
time. 


Christ's  last  discourse  29 

Simon  Peter  guesses  the  truth  from  John's  look,  and 
looks  around  at  John,  and  at  Jesus,  and  at  the  traitor. 
And  in  his  ardent  heart  flames  up  anger  and  the  desire  to 
defend  his  beloved  Teacher. 

Judas  has  arisen  and  taken  up  his  garment,  and  is 
throwing  it  over  himself  and  has  made  the  first  step.  But 
his  eyes  cannot  turn  away  from  the  saddened  face  of  the 
Teacher.  There  is  still  time  :  he  can  turu  back,  fall  down 
before  His  feet,  repenting  his  sin.  But  the  devil  has 
already  taken  possession  of  his  heart.  "  Do  not  submit," 
he  says  to  liim,  "  do  not  submit  to  your  weakness ;  do  not 
submit  to  the  reproaches  of  the  haughty  disciples.  They 
look  at  you  and  only  wait  for  the  chance  to  humble  you. 
Go." 

Jesus  is  lying,  leaning  on  His  arm  ;  He  does  not  look  at 
Judas,  but  He  sees  and  knows  what  is  going  on  in  Judas' 
heart,  and  waits,  and  suffers  for  him.  Jesus  has  with 
His  hands  fed  His  disciples,  has  with  His  hands  washed 
the  feet  of  His  enemy,  has  saved  him  from  human  punish- 
ment, and  until  the  end  calls  him  with  love  to  repentance, 
and  forgives  him.  And  yet  Judas  does  not  return  to  Him. 
And  Jesus  grieves  on  account  of  all  those  who  do  not 
come  to  Him. 

Judas  has  gon?,  and  has  disappeared  in  the  darkness  of 
the  night.  The  door  has  barely  closed,  when  the  dis- 
ciples learn  who  the  traitor  is.  They  are  agitated  and 
provoked.  Peter  wants  to  run  after  him.  But  Jesus 
raises  His  head,  and  says :  "  Little  children,  yet  a  little 
while  I  am  with  you.  ...  A  new  commandment  I  give 
unto  you.  That  ye  love  one  another;  as  I  have  loved 
you,  that  ye  also  love  one  another." 

It  was  only  then  that  they  understood  that,  by  loving 
those  who  were  in  the  world,  He  proved  in  fact  that  He 
would  love  them  until  the  end. 

18S6. 


APROPOS  OF  A.  I.  ERSHOV'S 
BOOK,  '^RECOLLECTIONS 
FROM    SEVASTOPOL" 

1889 


APROPOS  OF  A.  I.  ERSHOV'S 
BOOK,  ^^RECOLLECTIONS 
FROM   SEVASTOPOL" 


A.  I.  Ershov  sent  me  his  book,  Recollections  from 
Sevastopol,  asking  me  to  read  it  and  tell  him  the  impres- 
sion produced  on  me  by  this  reading. 

I  read  the  book,  and  I  feel  very  much  like  telling  about 
the  impression  which  the  reading  produced  on  me,  be- 
cause this  impression  is  very  powerful.  The  author  and 
I  went  through  all  that  thirty-four  years  ago.  What  we 
went  through  was  what  the  author  describes,  —  the  horror 
of  the  war,  —  and  w^hat  he  almost  does  not  describe,  — 
the  spiritual  condition  experienced  then  by  the  author. 

A  boy  who  is  just  let  out  from  a  military  school  finds 
his  way  to  Sevastopol.  A  few  months  before,  this  boy 
was  joyous  and  happy,  as  girls  are  happy  the  next  day 
after  their  marriage.  Only  yesterday,  it  seems,  he  put 
on  his  officer's  uniform,  which  the  experienced  tailor 
properly  padded  with  cotton  under  the  facings,  spreading 
the  heavy  cloth  and  the  shoulder-straps,  so  as  to  conceal 
the  youthful  and  unformed  childish  breast  and  give  it  the 
aspect  of  manliness ;  only  yesterday  he  put  on  this  uni- 
form and  went  to  the  hair-dresser's,  where  he  had  his  hair 
fixed  and  treated  with  pomatum  and  accentuated  his 
nascent  moustache  with  wax,  and,  clattering  over    the 

33 


34       "recollections  from  Sevastopol 


>» 


steps  with  his  sword  hanging  down  from  a  gilt  hanger, 
and  with  his  cap  poised  jauntily,  he  walked  down  the 
street.  He  no  longer  looks  about  him  carefully,  for  fear 
of  neglecting  to  salute  an  officer,  and  the  lower  ranks  see 
him  from  afar,  and  he  nonchalantly  touches  the  vizor  of 
his  cap  or  commands,  "  Excused  ! "  It  was  only  yester- 
day that  the  general,  his  commander,  spoke  to  him  seri- 
ously as  to  an  equal,  and  he  saw  before  him  a  brilliant 
military  career.  It  was  only  yesterday,  it  seems,  that  his 
nurse  admired  him,  and  his  mother  was  touched  and  wept 
for  joy,  kissing  and  fondling  him,  and  he  felt  both  happy 
and  ashamed.  It  was  only  yesterday  that  he  met  a 
charming  girl;  they  talked  of  all  kinds  of  nouseuse,  and 
the  lips  of  both  of  them  wrinkled  with  repressed  smiles ; 
and  he  knew  that  she,  and  not  only  she,  but  girls  a  hun- 
dred and  a  thousand  times  more  beautiful  than  she, 
might,  and  certainly  must,  fall  in  love  with  him.  All 
that,  it  seems,  happened  yesterday.  All  that  may  have 
been  petty,  and  ridiculous,  and  vainglorious,  but  all  that 
was  innocent  and,  therefore,  sweet. 

And  here  he  is  in  Sevastopol.  Suddenly  he  sees  that 
something  is  not  quite  right,  that  something  he  did  not 
expect  is  taking  place.  His  commander  tells  him,  that 
same  man  whom  his  mother  loves  so  much,  from  whom 
not  she  alone,  but  everybody  else  as  well,  expected  so 
much  good,  him,  with  his  bodily  and  spiritual,  unique,  in- 
comparable beauty,  to  go  where  they  kill  and  maim 
people.  The  commander  does  not  deny  the  fact  that  he 
is  the  same  youth,  whom  all  love  and  whom  nobody  can 
help  but  love,  and  whose  hfe  is  more  important  to  him 
than  anything  else  in  the  world,  —  he  does  not  deny  this, 
but  he  calmly  says,  "  Go,  and  let  them  kill  you."  His 
heart  is  compressed  by  double  fear,  the  fear  of  death  and 
the  fear  of  shame,  and,  looking  as  though  it  did  not  make 
any  difference  to  him  whether  he  went  to  death  or  stayed 
where  he  is,  he  gets  ready,  pretending  that  he  is  inter- 


"recollections  from  Sevastopol"       35 

ested  in  what  he  is  going  for,  and  also  in  his  things  and 
bed.  He  goes  to  the  place  where  they  kill;  he  goes, 
hoping  that  it  is  only  talk  about  people  being  killed 
there,  but  that  in  reality  there  is  nothing  of  the  kind,  but 
something  else.  He  needs  only,  however,  to  stay  half  an 
hour  on  the  bastions,  in  order  to  see  that  in  reality  it  is 
more  terrible,  more  intolerable,  than  he  expected.  In  his 
very  sight  a  man  was  agleam  with  joy  and  abloom  with 
alacrity.  And  here  something  pings,  and  this  man  falls 
into  the  excrements  of  other  men,  —  one  terrible  suffering, 
regret,  and  arraignment  of  everything  taking  place  here. 
This  is  terrible,  but  he  must  not  look,  he  must  not  think. 
He  cannot  help  thinking :  "  That  was  he,  but  it  will  soon 
be  I.  How  so  ?  For  what  ?  Why  I,  that  same  I  who 
am  so  good,  so  sweet,  so  dear,  not  only  to  my  nurse,  not 
only  to  my  mother,  not  only  to  'her,'  but  to  so  many 
people?  How  they  loved  me  on  my  way  down,  at  the 
station,  how  they  were  happy  with  me,  and  made  me  a 
present  of  a  tobacco-pouch !  And  here  they  are  not  in- 
terested in  my  pouch,  not  even  how  and  when  they  will 
maim  this  my  body,  these  legs,  these  arms,  and  will  kill 
me  as  they  have  killed  him.  Nobody  is  interested  to 
know  whether  I  shall  to-day  be  one  of  those;  on  the 
contrary,  it  seems  desirable  to  them  that  I  should  be. 
Yes,  I  am  of  no  use  to  any  one  here.  And  if  I  am  not, 
why  am  I  here  ? "  he  puts  the  question  to  himself,  but  is 
unable  to  find  an  answer. 

It  would  be  well  if  some  one  would  explain  to  him 
what  all  this  is  for,  or,  if  not  explain,  would  tell 
him  something  encouraging.  But  no  one  ever  says  any- 
thing of  the  kind.  Indeed,  it  seems,  it  is  impossible  to 
say  this.  It  would  make  him  feel  ashamed,  if  some  one 
should  say  that  to  him.  And  so  no  one  says  anything. 
"  Wliy,  then,  why  am  I  here  ? "  the  boy  calls  out  to  him- 
self, and  he  feels  like  crying.  And  there  is  no  answer, 
except  a  morbid  fainting  of  the  heart.     But  tlie  sergeant 


36      "recollections  from  Sevastopol" 

enters,  and  he  dissembles  —  Time  goes  on.  Others  are 
looking,  or  he  thinks  that  they  are  looking  at  him,  and  he 
makes  every  effort  in  order  not  to  disgrace  himself.  Not 
to  disgrace  himself,  he  has  to  act  like  the  others :  stop 
thinking,  smoke,  drink,  jest,  and  conceal.  And  a  day, 
another,  a  third,  a  week  pass —  The  boy  gets  used  to 
concealing  his  fear  and  drowning  thought.  What  is  most 
terrible  to  him  is  this,  that  he  is  the  only  one  who  is  in 
such  ignorance  as  to  why  he  is  here  in  this  terrible  condi- 
tion :  others,  it  seems  to  him,  know  something,  and  he 
wants  to  provoke  the  others  to  a  frank  conversation.  He 
thinks  that  it  would  be  easier  to  confess,  if  he  knew  that 
others  are  in  the  same  terrible  condition.  But  it  seems 
impossible  to  provoke  the  others  to  a  sincere  conversa- 
tion :  the  others  apparently  are  as  much  afraid  to  speak 
of  it  as  he  is.  It  is  impossible  to  speak  of  it.  What  they 
may  speak  of  is  scarps  and  counterscarps,  porter,  ranks, 
rations,  cards,  —  that  is  all  right.  And  thus  passes  day 
after  day ;  the  youth  gets  used  to  not  thinking,  not  asking, 
and  not  speaking  about  what  he  is  doing,  and  he  none  the 
less  feels  all  the  time  that  he  is  doing  what  is  contrary  to 
his  whole  being.  Thus  pass  seven  months,  and  the  youth 
is  not  killed  and  not  maimed,  and  the  war  comes  to  an 
end. 

The  terrible  moral  torture  has  come  to  an  end.  No 
one  has  found  out  how  afraid  he  was,  how  he  wanted  to 
get  away,  and  how  he  did  not  understand  why  he  remained 
there.  At  last  he  can  breathe  freely,  come  to  his  senses, 
and  reflect  on  what  has  happened. 

"  Now  what  has  happened  ?  For  the  period  of  seven 
mouths  I  was  in  fear  and  agony,  concealing  my  suffering 
from  everybody  else.  There  was  no  exploit,  that  is,  an 
act  of  which  I  may  be  proud ;  there  was  not  even  such 
as  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to  recall.  All  the  exploits  re- 
duce themselves  to  this,  that  I  was  food  for  cannon,  for 
a  long  time  stayed  in  a  place  where  they  killed  a  lot  of 


"  RECOLLECTIONS  FROM  SEVASTOrOL  "    37 

meu,  by  wuunding  them  in  their  heads,  their  breasts,  and 
all  the  parts  of  their  bodies.  But  that  is  not  my  personal 
affair.  It  may  have  been  prominent,  but  I  was  partaker 
in  the  common  cause.  The  common  cause  ?  What  does 
it  consist  in  ?  They  have  killed  dozens,  thousands  of 
men  —  well,  what  of  it  ?  Sevastopol,  that  Sevastopol 
which  was  defended,  has  been  surrendered,  and  the  fleet 
has  been  sunk,  and  the  keys  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem 
have  remained  where  they  were  before,  and  Eussia  has 
been  diminished.  What  of  it  ?  Is  it  possible  there  is  but 
one  conclusion,  that  in  my  stupidity  and  youth  I  got  into 
a  terrible  condition,  in  which  I  passed  seven  months,  and 
that  on  account  of  my  youth  I  was  unable  to  get  away 
from  it  ?     Is  that  all  ? " 

The  youth  is  in  a  very  advantageous  position  for  mak- 
ing  this  inevitable  logical  conclusion :  in  the  first  plac^ 
the  war  ended  disgracefully  and  cannot  be  justified  in  any 
way  (there  is  no  liberation  of  Europe  or  of  the  Bulgarians, 
and  so  forth)  ;  in  the  second  place,  the  youth  has  not  paid 
such  a  tribute  to  war  as  that  of  being  maimed  for  life, 
which  would  make  it  hard  to  recognize  as  a  mistake  what 
was  its  cause.  The  youth  has  received  no  special  honours, 
the  renunciation  of  which  would  be  connected  with  the 
renunciation  of  war;  the  youth  could  tell  the  truth,  which 
is  this,  that  he  accidentally  got  into  a  hopeless  situation 
and,  not  knowing  how  to  get  out  of  it,  continued  to  stay 
in  it  until  it  solved  itself.  The  youth  feels  like  saying 
this,  and  he  would  certainly  say  it  frankly ;  but  suddenly 
the  youth  is  surprised  to  hear  people  all  about  him  speak 
of  the  past  war,  not  as  something  disgraceful,  as  which  it 
appears  to  him,  but  as  something  good  and  even  unusual ; 
he  hears  that  the  defence  in  wliich  he  took  part  was  a 
great  historic  event,  that  it  was  an  unheard-of  defence, 
that  those  who  were  in  Sevastopol,  and  he,  too,  were 
heroes  above  all  heroes,  and  that  his  not  having  run 
away,  like  the  staying  of  the  artillery  horse,  which  could 


38      "recollections  from  Sevastopol" 

not  break  the  halter  aud  so  did  not  get  away,  was  a  great 
exploit,  —  that  he  is  a  hero.  And  so  the  boy  listens,  at 
first  in  surprise,  and  later  with  curiosity,  and  loses  the 
strength  to  tell  the  whole  truth,  —  he  cauuot  speak  against 
his  companions  and  give  them  away ;  but  he  still  wants 
to  say  part  of  the  truth,  and  he  composes  a  descriptiou  of 
what  he  experienced,  aud  in  this  description  tries  to  say 
everything  which  he  experienced.  He  describes  his  posi- 
tion in  the  war :  people  are  being  killed  about  him ;  he 
kills  people ;  he  feels  terror,  disgust,  aud  pity.  But  the 
very  first  question  which  occurs  to  any  one  —  why  he  does 
it,  why  he  does  not  stop  and  go  away  —  the  author  does  not 
answer.  He  does  not  say,  as  they  spoke  anciently,  when 
they  hated  their  enemies,  as  the  Jews  hated  the  Philis- 
tines, that  he  hated  the  allies ;  on  the  contrary,  he  here 
and  there  shows  his  sympathy  for  them  as  for  his  broth- 
ers. Nor  does  he  speak  of  his  ardent  desire  to  have  the 
keys  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem  vested  in  our  hands,  or 
even  that  the  fleet  should  exist  or  not.  You  felt,  as  you 
read  the  book,  that  the  questions  of  men's  life  and  death 
are  not  commensurable  with  the  political  questions.  And 
the  reader  feels  that  to  the  question  why  the  author  did 
what  he  did  there  is  but  one  answer :  "  Because  I  was 
taken  up  in  my  childhood,  or  immediately  before  the  war, 
or  because  I  accidentally  fell  into  a  condition  from  which 
I  could  not  get  out  without  great  efforts.  I  fell  into  this 
condition,  and  when  I  was  made  to  perform  the  most 
unnatural  deeds  in  the  world,  —  killing  my  brothers,  who 
had  not  offended  me  in  any  way,  —  I  preferred  doing  that 
to  being  subject  to  punishment  and  disgrace."  And  though 
in  the  book  short  hints  are  thrown  out  as  to  the  love  of 
Tsar  and  country,  one  feels  that  those  are  only  a  tribute 
to  the  conditions  under  which  the  author  lives.  Though 
it  is  assumed  that,  since  it  is  good  to  sacrifice  one's  sound- 
ness and  life,  all  the  sufferings  and  death,  which  are 
encountered,  are  reasons  for  praising  those  -who  undergo 


"  RECOLLECTIONS  FROM  SEVASTOPOL  "    SO 

them,  one  feels  that  the  author  knows  that  that  is  not 
true,  because  he  does  not  voluntarily  subject  his  life  to 
danger.  One  feels  that  the  author  knows  that  there  is 
a  law  of  God — "love  thy  neighbour,  and  so  thou  shalt 
not  kill "  —  which  cannot  be  abohshed  by  any  human 
sophistry.  In  this  does  the  worth  of  the  book  consist; 
but  it  is  a  pity  that  this  is  only  felt  and  not  expressed 
frankly  and  clearly.  The  sufferings  and  death  of  men  are 
described,  but  nothing  is  said  as  to  what  produces  them. 
Thirty-five  years  ago  that  was  all  right,  but  now  some- 
thmg  else  is  wanted.  It  is  necessary  to  describe  what 
produces  the  sufferings  and  death  at  wars,  in  order  that 
these  causes  may  be  found  out,  understood,  and  destroyed. 

"  War  !  How  terrible  war  is,  with  its  wounds,  blood, 
and  deaths,"  say  people.  "  We  must  establish  the  Eed 
Cross,  in  order  to  alleviate  the  wounds,  the  sufferings,  and 
death."  But  it  is  not  the  wounds,  the  sufferings,  death, 
that  are  terrible  in  war.  All  men,  who  eternally  suffer 
and  who  die,  ought  to  become  accustomed  to  sufferings  and 
to  death,  and  not  to  be  terrified  by  them.  Even  without 
war  people  die  from  hunger,  from  inundations,  from  infec- 
tious diseases.  Wliat  is  terrible  is  not  suffering  and  death, 
but  that  people  are  permitted  to  produce  them. 

The  one  sentence  of  a  man,  who  for  the  sake  of  curios- 
ity asks  that  a  certain  man  be  hanged,  and  that  of  another, 
who  answers,  "  All  right,  hang  him,  if  you  please,"  —  this 
one  sentence  is  full  of  men's  death  and  suffering.  Such 
a  sentence,  printed  and  read,  carries  death  and  suffering 
to  millions.  It  is  not  suffering  and  crippling  and  bodily 
death,  but  spiritual  crippling  and  death  that  should  be 
diminished.  We  do  not  need  the  Red  Cross,  but  the 
simple  cross  of  Christ,  in  order  that  the  lie  and  deception 
be  destroyed  — 

I  was  just  finishing  this  preface,  when  a  young  man 
from  the  School  of  Yunkers  came  to  see  me.  He  told  me 
that  he  was  troubled  by  religious  doubts.      He  had  read 


40    "  RECOLLECTIONS  FROM  SEVASTOPOL 


»> 


Dostot^vski's  The  Great  Inquisitor,  and  he  was  troubled 
by  doubts  as  to  why  Christ  taught  a  doctrme  which  was  so 
hard  to  execute.  He  had  read  none  of  my  writings.  I 
cautiously  told  him  that  he  ought  to  read  the  Gospel  and 
there  look  for  answers  to  the  questions  of  life.  He  listened 
and  agreed  with  me.  Before  the  end  of  our  conversation 
I  spoke  to  him  about  wine,  advising  him  not  to  drink.  He 
said :  "  But  in  mihtary  service  this  is  sometimes  neces- 
sary." I  thought,  he  would  say,  "  For  the  sake  of  health, 
or  strength,"  and  was  getting  ready  to  vanquish  him  with 
proofs  from  experience  and  science,  but  he  said  :  "  For 
example,  at  Geok-Tepe,  when  Skobelev  wanted  to  kill  the 
population,  the  soldiers  refused,  and  he  filled  them  with 
liquor,  and  then  — "  That  is  where  all  the  horrors  of 
war  are :  in  this  boy  with  his  fresh,  youthful  face,  with 
his  shoulder-straps,  through  which  are  carefully  drawn 
the  ends  of  the  hood,  with  clean,  blackened  boots,  and 
with  his  na'ive  eyes,  and  so  forlorn  a  world-conception  ! 

That  is  where  the  horror  of  war  is ! 

What  millions  of  workers  of  the  Red  Cross  will  cure 
the  wounds  which  swarm  in.  these  words,  —  the  product 
of  a  whole  education  ? 

May  10,  1889. 


"THE   NON-ACTING 

1893 


>» 


"THE  NON- ACTING"" 


(a)  The  editor  of  a  Parisian  periodical,  the  Revue  des 
Revues,  assuming,  as  he  writes  in  his  letter,  that  the 
opinion  of  two  famous  writers  concerning  the  present 
attitude  of  the  minds  might  be  interesting  to  me,  sent 
me  two  clippings  from  French  newspapers.  One  of  these 
contains  Zola's  speech,  the  other  Dumas's  letter  to  the 
editor  of  the  Gaulois.  I  am  very  thankful  to  Mr.  Smith 
for  his  message. 

Both  these  documents,  on  account  of  the  reputation  of 
their  authors,  and  their  timelmess,  and  chiefly  on  account 
of  their  oppositeuess,  are  of  a  profound  interest,  and  I 
want  to  express  the  few  thoughts  which  they  evoked  in 
me. 

It  is  difficult  in  the  current  literature  to  find,  in  a 
more  succinct,  powerful,  and  striking  form,  the  expression 
of  those  two  very  fundamental  forces,  from  which  the 
resultant  for  the  motion  of  humanity  is  composed ; 
one,  —  the  dead  force  of  inertia,  which  strives  to  retain 
humanity  on  the  road  which  it  has  already  traversed,  the 

^This  article  was  in  1896  rewritten  by  Tolst6y  in  French,  and  was 
published  by  his  French  translator,  Halp^rine-Kaminsky,  and  also  in 
the  Cosmopolis.  The  iinporiaut  changes  are  given  here  in  the  notes 
marked  F. 

The  order  of  the  passages  in  the  French  version  is  as  follows : 
a,  k,  1,  m,  c,  e,  d,  g,  h,  q,  o,  s,  p,  r,  v  ;  aa,  cc,  ee,  dd,  gg,  ii,  jj,  11, 
kk,  mm,  qq,  ss,  uu,  rr,  oo,  ww,  xx,  zz.  The  other  passages  are 
omitted  in  the  French. 

43 


44  "the  non- acting" 

other,  the  Hving  force  of  reason,  which  draws  it  toward 
the  light. 

Zola  does  not  approve  of  this,  that  the  new  teachers  of 
youth  propose  to  them  to  believe  in  something  indefinite 
and  vague,  and  he  is  quite  right,  but,  unfortunately,  he, 
on  his  side,  proposes  to  them  another  belief,  a  belief  in 
something  far  more  vague  and  indefinite,  in  science  and 
labour. 

(h)  Zola  considers  the  question  as  to  what  the  science 
is  in  which  we  must  never  stop  believing  to  be  quite 
solved  and  subject  to  no  doubt. 

(c)  To  work  in  the  name  of  science !  But  the  trouble 
is,  that  the  word  "  science "  has  a  very  broad  and  little 
defined  meaning,  so  that  what  some  people  regard  as 
science,  that  is,  a  very  important  business,  is  considered 
by  others,  by  far  the  greater  number  of  men,  by  all  the 
working  people,  as  unnecessary  foolishness.  It  cannot  be 
said  that  this  is  due  to  the  ignorance  of  the  working 
people,  who  are  unable  to  understand  all  the  profundity 
of  science,  —  the  learned  themselves  constantly  deny  one 
another.  One  set  of  scholars  consider  philosophy,  theol- 
ogy, jurisprudence,  political  economy,  the  science '  of  sci- 
ences, while  other  scholars,  the  natural  scientists,  consider 
all  that  a  most  trifling,  unscientific  business ;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  what  the  positivists  consider  to  be  the  most 
important  sciences  are  regarded  by  the  spiritualists,  the 
philosophers,  and  the  theologians  as  useless,  if  not  harm- 
ful, occupations.  More  than  that :  in  one  and  the  same 
branch  every  system  has  among  its  very  priests  its  ardent 
defenders  and  adversaries,  who  are  equally  competent  and 
who  express  diametrically  opposite  opinions.^ 

We  all  know  that  what  was  considered  to  be  exclu- 

1  After  this  the  French  version  has  :  "Finally,  do  we  not  see  every 
year  new  scientltic  discoveiies  which,  after  having  been  admired  by 
all  the  boobies  of  the  world  and  having  brought  fortunes  to  their 
inventors,  are  subsequently  recognized  as  ridiculous  errors  by  those 
very  men  who  have  extolled  them  ?  " 


"the  non- acting"  46 

sively  science  and  a  very  important  matter  by  the 
Eomans,  what  they  prided  themselves  on,  without  which 
they  considered  a  man  to  be  a  barbarian,  was  rhetoric, 
that  is,  an  exercise  which  we  now  make  fun  of  and  con- 
sider not  only  no  art,  but  simply  foohshness.  We  know 
also  that  what  was  considered  to  be  art  and  the  most 
important  business  in  the  Middle  Ages,  scholasticism,  we 
make  fun  of  now.  And  I  think  it  does  not  take  any 
special  daring  of  thought  in  order  from  the  vast  amount 
of  knowledge,  which  in  our  world  is  regarded  as  an 
important  business  and  is  called  science,  to  foresee  at 
which  of  these  our  descendants,  reading  the  description  of 
the  seriousness  with  which  w-e  busied  ourselves  with  our 
rhetorics  and  scholastics,  that  in  our  time  were  regarded 
as  science,  will  also  shrug  their  shoulders, 

{(l)  In  our  time  people,  having  freed  themselves  from 
one  kind  of  superstitions  without  being  cognizant  of  it, 
have  fallen  into  other  superstitions,  not  less  groundless 
and  harmful  than  those  from  which  they  have  just  freed 
themselves.  Having  freed  themselves  from  the  supersti- 
tious of  the  obsolete  religions,  people  have  fallen  into  the 
scientific  superstitions.  At  first  it  seems  that  there  can 
be  nothing  in  common  between  the  beliefs  of  the  Egyp- 
tians as  to  there  being  a  bird  Phoenix  and  the  beliefs  of 
our  time  as  to  the  world  having  resulted  from  the  revolu- 
tion of  matter  and  the  struggle  for  existence,  as  to 
criminality  arising  from  heredity,  as  to  the  existence  of 
micro-organisms  in  the  shape  of  commas,  which  cause  all 
the  diseases,  and  so  forth.  There  would  seem  to  be 
nothing  in  common  between  these  beliefs,  but  that  only 
seems  so. 

We  need  only  in  imagination  transfer  ourselves  to  the 
mental  condition  of  the  ancient  Egyptian,  when  his  beliefs 
were  offered  to  him  by  his  priests,  to  convince  ourselves 
that  the  bases  on  which  he  accepted  his  beliefs  and  that 
on  which  at  present  all  kinds  of  scientific  propositions  are 


46  "the  non- acting'* 

accepted  by  the  men  of  our  time  are  not  only  similar,  but 
also  absolutely  identical. 

As  the  Egyptian  really  did  not  believe  in  the  Phoenix, 
but  in  this,  that  there  are  men  who  incontestably  know 
the  highest  truth  accessible  to  men,  and  that,  therefore,  it 
is  good  to  believe  in  them,  so  also  the  men  of  our  time 
believe,  not  in  the  Darwinian  theory  of  heredity  and  in 
the  commas,  but  in  what  is  given  out  to  them  as  the 
truth  by  the  priests  of  science,  the  foundations  of  whose 
activity  remain  as  mysterious  to  the  believers  as  were  for 
the  Egyptians  the  activities  of  their  priests. 

I  venture  to  say  also  that  I  have  more  than  once 
observed  that,  as  the  ancient  priests  lied  and  gave  out  as 
the  truth  whatever  occurred  to  them,  without  its  being 
verified  by  any  one  but  their  own  priests,  so  also  do  the 
so-called  men  of  science,  frequently.^ 

1  Instead  of  the  whole  of  passage  (d),  which  is  obviously  the  result 
of  the  censor's  action,  the  French  version  gives  the  following  :  "The 
opinion  is  generally  admitted  that  religion  and  science  are  opposed  to 
one  another.  So  they  are,  but  only  in  relation  to  time,  that  is,  what 
by  the  contemporaries  is  regarded  as  science  frequently  becomes 
religion  for  the  descendants.  What  is  ordinarily  designated  by  the 
name  of  religion  is  most  generally  the  science  of  the  past,  while  what 
is  called  science  is  to  a  great  extent  the  religion  of  the  present. 

"We  say  that  the  affirmation  of  the  Jews  that  the  world  was  created 
in  six  days,  that  the  children  will  be  punished  for  the  sins  of  their 
fathers,  that  certain  maladies  may  be  cured  by  looking  at  a  serpent, 
are  all  data  of  religion  ;  while  we  regard  as  data  of  science  the 
affirmations  of  our  contemporaries  that  the  world  created  itself  by 
turning  about  a  centre  which  is  everywhere,  that  all  the  species 
are  the  result  of  the  struggle  for  existence,  that  criminals  are 
the  products  of  heredity,  that  there  are  certain  organisms  in  the  form 
of  commas,  which  produce  certain  diseases.  It  is  easy  to  see,  if  in 
imagination  we  transfer  ourselves  to  the  mental  state  of  an  ancient 
Jew,  that  for  him  the  creation  of  the  world  in  six  days,  the  serpent 
curing  diseases,  etc.,  were  data  of  science  in  its  highest  degree  of  de- 
velopment, just  as  for  a  man  of  oiu-  time  are  Darwin's  law,  Koch's 
commas,  heredity,  etc. 

"  And  just  as  a  Jew  did  not  exactly  believe  in  the  creation  of  the 
world  in  six  days,  in  the  serpent  curing  certain  diseases,  etc.,  but  in 
the  infallibility  of  his  priests  and,  therefore,  in  all  their  assertions,  so 
also  the  great  majority  of  the  civilized  people  of  our  time  do  not 


"the  non- acting"  47 

(e)  Zola's  whole  discourse  is  directed  against  the 
teachers  of  youth,  who  invite  them  to  return  to  the  obso- 
lete beliefs,  and  Zola  considers  himself  to  be  their  adver- 
sary. In  reality,  those  against  whom  he  arms  himself 
and  those  whom  he  champions,  that  is,  the  representatives 
of  science,  are  men  of  the  same  camp. 

(/)  If  they  properly  analyzed  each  other's  tendencies, 
they  would  find  no  cause  for  quarrels,  "  querelles  d'amou- 
reux"  as  Dumas  says.  Both  seek  their  bases  of  life,  its 
prime  movers,  not  in  themselves,  not  in  their  reason,  but 
in  the  external  human  forms  of  life :  some,  in  what  they 
call  religion ;  others,  in  what  they  call  science.  •  Some, 
those  who  look  for  salvation  in  religion,  take  it  from  the 
tradition  of  the  ancient  knowledge  of  other  men,  and 
want  to  believe  in  this  alien  and  ancient  knowledge  ; 
others,  those  who  look  for  salvation  in  what  they  call 
science,  do  not  take  it  from  their  knowledge,  but  from  the 
knowledge  of  other  men,  and  believe  in  this  other  knowl- 
edge. The  first  see  the  salvation  of  humanity  in  a 
corrected,  mended,  or  purified  Catholicism ;  the  others  see 
it  in  the  aggregate  of  that  most  accidental,  varied,  and  un- 
necessary knowledge  which  they  call  science  and  consider 
to  be  something  self-acting  and  beneficent  and,  therefore,  in- 
evitably certain  to  correct  all  the  defects  of  life  and  give  to 
humanity  the  highest  accessible  good.  The  first  seem  to  be 
intent  on  not  seeing  that  what  they  wish  to  reestablish 
is  only  an  empty  chrysalis,  from  which  the  butterfly  has 
long  ago  flown  away,  to  lay  eggs  in  another  place,  and  that 
this  reconstruction  will  not  only  fail  to  remove  the  ca- 

believe  in  the  formation  of  the  worlds  through  rotation,  or  in  heredity, 
or  in  the  commas,  but  in  the  infallibility  of  their  lay  priests  who  are 
called  savants  and  who  affirm,  with  the  same  aplomb  as  the  Jewish 
priests,  everything  which  they  pretend  to  know.  . 

"I  will  even  say  that  if  the  ancient  priests,  who  were  controlled 
only  by  their  colleagues,  permitted  themselves  now  and  then  to 
depart  from  veracity  for  no  other  reason  than  in  order  to  mystify 
their  public,  the  priests  of  modern  science  do  the  same  with  just  as 
much  boldness." 


48  "the  non- acting" 

lamities  of  our  time,  but  will  even  increase  them,  by 
turning  people's  eyes  away  from  the  real  work.  The 
second  do  not  want  to  see  that  what  they  call  science, 
being  a  fortuitous  collection  of  some  kind  of  knowledge, 
which  at  the  present  time  has  interested  a  few  idle  men, 
can  either  be  an  innocent  pastime  for  rich  people,  or,  at 
best,  an  instrument  of  evil  or  good,  according  to  this, 
in  whose  hands  it  shall  be,  but  is  unable  in  itself  to 
mend  anything.  In  reality,  in  the  depth  of  their  hearts, 
neither  of  them  believes  in  the  reality  of  the  means 
which  they  propose,  and  both  alike  only  try  to  turn 
their  own  eyes  and  those  of  other  men  away  from  the 
abyss,  before  which  humanity  is  standing  already  and  into 
which,  continuing  to  walk  on  the  same  road,  it  must 
inevitably  fall.  The  first  see  this  distractive  means  in 
mysticism ;  the  others,  whose  representative  Zola  is, 
in  the  stultifying  action  of  work  for  the  sake  of  science. 

The  difference  between  the  two  is  this,  that  the  first 
believe  in  the  ancient  wisdom,  the  lie  of  which  has  been 
pointed  out,  and  the  second  believe  in  the  new  wisdom, 
the  lie  of  which  has  not  yet  been  made  manifest,  and 
which,  therefore,  inspires  a  few  naive  people  with  a  cer- 
tain tremor  of  awe.  (g)  However,  the  superstition  in  the 
latter  case  is  hardly  less  than  in  the  first.  The  only 
difference  is  this,  that  one  is  the  superstition  of  the  past, 
the  other  the  superstition  of  the  present.  ^ 

(h)  And  so,  to  follow  the  advice  of  Zola,  by  devoting 
one's  life  to  the  service  of  what  in  our  time  and  world  is 
considered  science,  is  not  that  dangerous  ?     (i)  What  if 

1  After  this,  the  French  rendering  reads  :  "  And  the  proportion  ot 
error  and  truth  is,  I  suppose,  very  nearly  the  same  in  both.  Conse- 
quently, to  work  in  the  name  of  any  belief  whatsoever,  be  it  religion 
or  science,  is  not  only  a  doubtful  means  for  ameliorating  the  exist- 
ence of  man,  but  also  a  dangerous  means  which  may  produce  more 
evil  than  good. 

'■To  consecrate  one's  life  to  the  fulfilment  of  duties  imposed  by 
religion,  —  prayers,  communion,  alms  ;  " 


"the  non- acting"  49 

I  shall  devote  all  my  life  to  the  investigation  of  phenom- 
ena, like  those  of  heredity  according  to  Lombroso's 
teaching,  and  of  Koch's  liquid,  and  of  the  formation  of 
humus  by  means  of  actions  of  the  worms,  and  of  Crookes's 
fourth  condition  of  matter,  and  so  forth,  (J)  and  suddenly 
I  learn  before  death  that  what  I  devoted  my  whole  life 
to  were  foolish  and  even  harmful  trifles,  while  life  was 
only  one  ? 

(k)  There  is  a  little  known  Chinese  philosopher,  Lao- 
tse  (the  best  translation  of  his  book,  0/  the  Road  of 
Virtue,  is  that  by  Stanislas  Julien).  The  essence  of 
Lao-tse's  teacliing  is  this,  that  the  highest  good  of  indi- 
vidual men,  and  especially  of  the  aggregate  of  men,  of 
nations,  can  be  acquired  through  the  knowledge  of  "  Tao," 
—  a  word  which  is  translated  by  "  path,  virtue,  truth  ;  " 
but  the  knowledge  of  "  Tao  "  can  be  acquired  only  through 
non-acting,  "  le  non-agir,"  as  Julien  translates  it.  All  the 
misfortunes  of  men,  according  to  Lao-tse's  teaching,  are 
due,  not  so  much  to  their  not  having  done  what  is 
necessary  as  to  their  doing  what  they  ought  not  to  do. 
And  so  men  would  be  freed  from  all  personal  and  espe- 
cially from  all  social  misfortunes,  —  it  is  the  latter 
that  the  Chinese  sage  has  more  especially  in  mind, — 
if  they  practised  non-acting  (s'ils  prcttiquciient  le  noTV- 
agir). 

{I)  I  believe  that  he  is  quite  right.  Let  each  man 
work  zealously.  But  at  what  ?  The  gambler  on  Exchange, 
the  banker,  returns  home  from  the  Exchange,  where  he 
has  worked  zealously ;  the  manufacturer  returns  from 
his  establishment,  where  thousands  of  men  ruin  their 
lives  in  manufacturing  mirrors,  tobacco,  whiskey.  All 
these  men  work,  but  can  we  encourage  them  in  their 
work  ?  But  perhaps  we  ought  to  speak  only  of  men 
working  for  science.^ 

1  Instead  of  {I)  the  French  version  runs:  "Lao-tse's  idea  seems 
queer,  but  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  of  his  opinion,  if  we  consider  the 


50  "the  non- acting" 

(7n)  I  constantly  receive  from  all  kinds  of  authors  all 
kinds  of  pamphlets,  and  frequently  books,  with  artistic 
and  scientific  studies. 

One  has  definitely  settled  the  question  of  Christian 
gnoseology,  another  has  printed  a  book  on  the  cosmic 
ether,  a  third  has  settled  the  social  question,  a  fourth  — 
the  political  question,  a  fifth  —  the  Eastern  question,  a 
sixth  edits  a  periodical  devoted  to  the  investigations  of 
the  mysterious  forces  of  the  spirit  and  of  Nature,  a  seventh 
has  solved  the  problem  of  the  knight. 

All  these  men  work  for  science  assiduously  and  zeal- 
ously, but  I  think  that  the  time  and  labour,  not  only  of 
all  these  writers,  but  even  of  many  others,  have  not  only 
been  wasted,  but  have  also  been  harmful.  They  have 
been  harmful,  in  the  first  place,  because  in  the  preparation 
of  these  writings  thousands  of  men  have  manufactured 
the  paper  and  the  types,  have  set  type  and  printed,  and, 
above  all,  have  fed  and  clothed  all  these  workers  of 
science,  (%)  and  also,  because  all  these  authors,  instead 
of  feeling  their  guilt  toward  society,  as  they  would  if 
they  played  cards  or  blind  man's  buff,  continue  with  a  calm 
conscience  to  do  their  useless  work. 

(o)  Who  does  not  know  those  cruel  men,  hopeless  as 
regards  the  truth,  who  are  so  busy  that  they  never  have 
any  time,  especially  no  time  to  find  out  whether  anybody 

results  of  the  occupations  of  the  great  majority  of  the  men  of  our 
century. 

"  Let  all  men  work  assiduously,  and  their  work  will  make  their 
lives  good  and  happy,  and  will  deliver  them  from  the  torment  of 
infinity,  we  are  told  by  Zola.  Work  !  But  at  what  ?  The  manu- 
facturers and  sellers  of  opium,  of  tobacco,  of  whiskey,  the  gamblers 
on  the  'Change,  the  inventors  and  manufacturers  of  engines  of 
destruction,  all  the  military,  all  the  jailers,  all  the  hangmen,  work, 
but  it  is  evident  that  humanity  would  only  be  the  gainer,  if  all  these 
workers  stopped  working. 

"But  maybe  Zola's  recommendation  has  reference  only  to  men 
whose  work  is  inspired  by  science  ?  In  fact,  the  greater  part  of 
Zola's  discourse  is  devoted  to  the  rehabilitation  of  science,  which  he 
supposes  to  be  attacked." 


"the  non- acting"  61 

wants  the  work  over  which  they  are  working  with  such 
zeal,  or  whether  it  is  not  harmful  ?  You  say  to  them, 
"  Your  work  is  useless  or  harmful  for  such  and  such  a 
reason,  —  wait,  we  shall  discuss  the  matter ; "  but  they 
do  not  Hsten  to  you,  and  answer  with  irony,  "  You  have 
time  to  discuss  the  matter,  since  you  have  nothing  to  do, 
(p)  but  I  am  working  on  an  investigation  of  how  many 
times  such  and  such  a  word  is  used  by  such  and  sucli  an 
ancient  author,  or  on  the  definition  of  the  forms  of  the 
atoms,  or  on  telepathy,"  and  so  forth. 

(q)  Besides,  I  have  always  marvelled  at  that  strange 
opinion,  which  has  taken  root  more  especially  in  Western 
Europe,  that  work  is  something  like  a  virtue,  and  long 
before  reading  this  idea,  as  clearly  expressed  in  Zola's  dis- 
course, I  frequently  marvelled  at  the  strange  significance 
ascribed  to  work. 

It  is  only  the  ant  in  the  fable,  a  being  deprived  of 
reason  and  of  strivings  after  the  good,  that  could  have 
thought  that  work  was  a  virtue,  and  that  could  pride 
itself  on  it. 

Zola  says  that  work  makes  man  good ;  but  I  have 
observed  the  opposite :  conscious  work,  the  antlike  pride 
in  one's  work,  makes  cruel,  not  only  the  ant,  but  also 
man. 

(r)  The  greatest  malefactors  of  humanity  ^  have  always 
been  very  busy,  never  for  a  moment  remaining  without  an 
occupation  or  amusement. 

But  even  if  industry  is  not  an  obvious  vice,  it  can  in 
no  way  be  considered  a  virtue.  Work  can  no  more  be  a 
virtue  than  eating.  Work  is  a  necessity,  the  deprivation 
of  which  produces  suffering,  but  it  is  by  no  means  a  virtue. 
The  exaltation  of  work  is  as  monstrous  as  would  be  the 
exaltation  of  eating  to  the  rank  of  a  virtue.  The  signifi- 
cance ascribed  to  work  in  our  society  could  have  arisen 
only  as  a  reaction  against  idleness,  raised  to  the  attribute 
1  Such  as  Nero  and  Peter  I.  —  F. 


52  "the  non- acting 


»> 


of  nobility  and  even  now  considered  as  a  distinction 
among  the  rich  and  uneducated  classes.  Work,  the 
exercise  of  one's  organs,  is  always  a  necessity  for  man, 
as  is  proved  both  by  the  calves  who  gambol  about  the 
pole  to  which  they  are  tied,  and  by  the  men  of  the  wealthy 
classes,^  the  martyrs  of  gymnastics  and  of  all  kinds  of 
games,  —  cards,  chess,  lawn-tennis,  and  so  forth,  —  who 
are  not  able  to  find  any  more  sensible  exercise  for  their 


organs. 


Work  is  not  only  no  virtue,  but  in  our  falsely  organized 
society  it  is  for  the  most  part  a  means  of  moral  anaes- 
thetics, something  like  smoking  or  drinking,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  concealing  from  oneself  the  irregularities  and 
viciousness  of  our  life. 

(s)  "  I  have  no  time  to  talk  with  you  about  philosophy, 
morality,  religion ;  I  have  to  edit  a  daily  with  half  a  mil- 
lion subscribers ;  ^  I  have  to  build  the  Eiffel  Tower,  to 
organize  the  Chicago  Exposition,  to  cut  the  Panama 
Canal,^  (t)  to  write  the  twenty-eighth  volume  of  my  works, 
to  paint  a  picture,  to  write  an  opera." 

(u)  If  the  men  of  our  time  did  not  have  the  excuse  of 
their  all-absorbing  work,  they  would  be  unable  to'  live  as 
they  now  hve.  Only  thanks  to  the  fact  that  with  their 
trifling  and  for  the  most  part  harmful  work  they  con- 
ceal from  themselves  those  contradictions  in  which  they 
live,  —  thanks  only  to  that,  are  they  able  to  live  as  they 
do. 

It  is  as  such  a  means  that  Zola  represents  work  to  his 
hearers.  He  says  directly :  "  This  is  only  an  empirical 
means  for  passing  an  honourable  and  almost  peaceful  life. 
But  is  that  little,  is  it  little  to  acquire  good  physical  and 
moral   health  and  to  avoid  the  danger  of  a  dream,  by 

1  Who  can  find  no  more  useful  employment  for  their  mental  facul- 
ties than  the  reading  of  periodicals  and  novels.  —  F. 

2  I  have  to  organize  an  army.  —  F. 
2 To  investigate  heredity.  —  F. 


Ernile  Zola. 


"the  non- acting"  63 

solving  by  work  the  question  of  the  greatest  happiness 
accessible  to  man  ?  " 

(v)  Such  is  the  advice  given  by  Zola  to  the  youth  of 
our  time ! 

(aa)  Something  quite  diflferent  is  said  by  Dumas.  The 
chief  difference  between  Dumas's  letter  and  Zola's  dis- 
course, to  say  nothing  of  the  external  difference,  which  is 
this,  that  Zola's  discourse  is  directed  to  the  youth  and 
seems  to  curry  favour  with'  them  (bb)  (which  has  become 
a  universal  and  disagreeable  phenomenon  of  our  time,  as 
also  the  currying  of  favour  with  women  by  the  authors), 
(cc)  while  Dumas's  letter  is  not  directed  to  the  youth  and 
does  not  make  them  compHmeuts,  but  on  the  contrary 
points  out  to  them  their  constant  error  of  self-coufideuce, 
and  so,  instead  of  impressing  upon  the  youth  that  they 
are  very  important  personages  and  that  the  whole  strength 
is  in  them,  which  they  must  by  no  means  think,  if  they 
want  to  do  something  sensible,  instructs  not  only  them, 
but  also  adults  and  old  people  in  very  many  things, — 
the  chief  difference  is  this,  that  Zola's  discourse  puts 
people  to  sleep,  retaining  them  on  the  path  on  which  they 
are  travelling,  assuring  them  that  what  they  know  is  pre- 
cisely what  they  ought  to  know ;  while  Dumas's  letter 
wakes  people,  pointing  out  to  them  that  their  life  is  not 
at  all  what  it  ought  to  be,  and  that  they  do  not  know  the 
chief  thing  which  they  ought  to  know. 

(dd)  Dumas,  too,  believes  as  little  in  the  superstition 
of  the  past  as  in  the  superstition  of  the  present.  But  for 
the  very  reason  that  he  does  not  believe  in  the  supersti- 
tion of  the  past,  nor  in  the  superstition  of  the  present,  he 
thinks  for  himself,  and  so  sees  clearly,  not  only  the  pres- 
ent, but  also  the  future,  as  those  saw  it  who  in  antiquity 
were  called  "  seeing  "  prophets.  Strange  though  it  must 
seem  to  those  who,  reading  the  works  of  authors,  see  only 
the  external  side  of  their  authorship,  and  not  the  author's 


54  "the  non- acting" 

soul,  the  same  Dumas  who  wrote  Dame  aux  CameliaSf 
Affaire  CUmenceau,  and  so  forth,  now  sees  the  future  and 
prophesies  about  it.  No  matter  how  strange  this  may 
seem  to  us,  who  are  accustomed  to  imagine  a  prophet  in 
skins  of  animals  and  in  the  wilderness,  prophecy  remains 
prophecy,  even  though  it  is  not  uttered  on  the  banks 
of  the  Jordan,  but  is  printed  on  the  banks  of  the  Seine 
in  the  printing-office  of  the  Gaulois,  and  Dumas's  words 
are  indeed  a  prophecy  and  bear  in  themselves  the  chief 
symptoms  of  a  prophecy :  in  the  first  place,  these  words 
are  the  very  opposite  of  the  universal  disposition  of  the 
men  among  whom  they  are  uttered ;  in  the  second,  the 
men  who  hear  these  words,  in  spite  of  themselves  and 
not  themselves  knowing  why,  agree  with  them ;  and,  in 
the  third,  which  is  most  important,  the  prophecy  con- 
tributes to  the  realization  of  what  it  predicts. 

(ee)  The  more  people  will  believe  in  this,  that  they 
may  be  led  by  something  external,  which  acts  of  itself, 
in  spite  of  their  will,  to  a  change  and  amelioration  of 
their  lives,  the  more  difficult  will  this  change  and  ame- 
lioration be.  In  this  does  the  chief  defect  of  Zola's  dis- 
course lie.  But,  on  the  contrary,  the  more  they  will 
believe  in  what  Dumas  predicts,  namely,  that  inevitably 
and  soon  there  will  come  the  time  when  all  men  shall 
love  one  another  and,  abandoning  themselves  to  this  love, 
shall  change  all  their  present  life,  the  quicker  this  time 
will  arrive.  In  this  does  the  chief  merit  of  Dumas's  letter 
consist,  (ff)  Zola  advises  men  not  to  change  their  lives, 
but  only  to  intensify  their  activity  in  the  direction  once 
started  upon,  and  thus  keeps  them  from  changing  their 
lives,  while  Dumas,  by  predicting  an  internal  change  of 
human  sentiments,  inspires  them  to  change  them, 

(gg)  Dumas  predicts  that  men,  having  tried  everything, 
will  finally,  in  a  very  short  time,  go  seriously  about  the 
application  to  life  of  the  law  of  the  "  love  of  one  another," 
and  will,  as  he  says,  be  seized  "  by  a  madness,  an  in- 


"THE    NON- acting"  55 

sanity  "  of  love,  (hh)  He  says  that  amidst  the  phenom- 
ena which  appear  so  threatening  he  sees  abeady  the  signs 
of  that  new  nascent  disposition  of  love  among  men ;  that 
the  armed  nations  no  longer  hate  one  another,  that  in  the 
struggle  of  the  wealthy  classes  with  the  poor  there  is  no 
longer  manifested  the  triumph  of  the  victors,  but  the  sin- 
cere compassion  of  the  victors  for  the  conquered  and 
dissatisfaction  and  shame  on  account  of  the  victory ;  he 
sees,  above  all,  he  says,  centres  of  love  attraction  form, 
growing  like  a  snowball,  and  inevitably  sure  to  attract 
everything  living,  which  so  iiiv  has  not  yet  united  with 
them,  and  he  sees  that  by  thus  changing  the  disposition 
love  will  destroy  all  the  evil  from  which  people  suffer. 

(ii)  I  think  that,  even  if  we  may  disagree  as  to  the 
nearness  of  the  change  which  Dumas  predicts,  or  even 
the  possibility  itself  of  such  a  love  infatuation  of  men  for 
one  another,  no  one  will  dispute  the  fact  that,  if  this  hap- 
pened, humanity  would  be  freed  from  the  great  majority 
of  misfortunes  which  beset  and  menace  it  now.^  {jj)  It 
cannot  be  denied  that,  if  men  did  what  thousands  of  years 
ago  was  prescribed  not  only  by  Christ,  but  also  by  all  the 
sages  of  the  world,  that  is,  if,  though  unable  to  love  one 
another  as  themselves,  men  did  not  do  to  one  another 
what  they  do  not  want  that  others  should  do  to  them,  if 
men  abandoned  themselves  to  altruism  instead  of  egoism, 
if  the  structure  of  life  from  being  individuahstic  were 
changed  to  a  collectivistic  one,  as  the  men  of  science  ex- 
press the  same  idea  in  their  bad  jargon,  the  lives  of  men, 


1  The  French  version  of  {jj)  differs  in  wording  bul  not  in  essence 
from  the  Russian.  It  is  preceded  by  the  following  passage  :  "  The 
only  objection,  or  rather  the  only  question  which  can  be  put  to 
Dumas,  is  this  :  If  the  love  of  our  neighbour  is  possible,  inherent  in 
human  nature,  why  have  so  many  thousand  years  passed  (for  the 
commandment  of  loving  God  and  our  neighbour  is  not  Christ's,  but 
even  that  of  Moses)  without  its  being  practised  by  men,  who  know  this 
means  of  happiness  ?  What  cause  impedes  the  manifestation  of  this 
natural  sentiment,  which  is  so  beneficent  to  humanity  ?  " 


56  *'the  non- acting" 

instead  of  being  miserable,  would  become  happy.  More 
than  that :  everybody  recognizes  the  fact  that  life,  con- 
tinued on  those  pagan  foundations  of  the  struggle  on 
which  it  is  proceeding  now,  wiU  inevitably  bring  human- 
ity to  the  greatest  misfortunes,  and  that  this  time  is  near 
at  hand.  Everybody  sees  that  the  more  fully  and  the 
more  energetically  they  shall  take  the  land  and  the  prod- 
ucts of  labour  away  from  one  another,  the  more  enven- 
omed they  will  become  and  the  more  inevitably  will  the 
people  from  whom  everything  has  been  taken  away  seize 
from  the  robbers  what  for  so  long  a  time  they  have  been 
deprived  of,  and  cruelly  repay  them  for  all  their  priva- 
tions.^ (kk)  Besides,  all  the  men  of  our  world  recognize 
the  obligatoriness  for  themselves  of  the  religious  Christian 
law  of  love,  or  the  worldly  law,  based  on  the  same  Chris- 
tian law,  of  respect  for  another's  life  and  for  man's  per- 
sonality and  rights. 

(IT)  Men  know  all  this,  and,  in  spite  of  it,  arrange  their 
lives  contrary  to  their  advantage  and  security,  and  to  the 
law  which  they  profess. 

{mm)  Apparently  there  is  some  hidden,  but  important 
cause,  which  keeps  people  from  fulfilling  what  is  advan- 
tageous for  them,  what  would  free  them  from  an  obvious 
danger,  and  what  they  recognize  as  religious  and  moral 
law,  which  is  binding  on  them.  It  is  certainly  not  for 
the  purpose  of  deceiving  one  another  that  the  love  of  one 
another  has  been  extolled  among  them  for  so  many  cen- 
turies and  is  now  preached  from  thousands  of  different 
religious  and  lay  pulpits.     It  has  long  been  time  to  decide 

^Nor  does  any  oue  doubt  that  the  respective  armaments  of  the 
nations  will  end  in  terrible  massacres,  in  the  ruin  and  the  degenera- 
tion of  all  the  nations  chained  in  this  circle  of  armaments.  Nobody- 
doubts  that  the  present  order  of  things,  if  it  is  prolonged  for  a  few 
decades  longer,  will  lead  to  a  certain  and  general  catastrophe.  We 
need  only  open  our  eyes,  to  see  the  abyss  toward  which  we  are  walk- 
ing. But  we  can  say  that  Jesus'  prophecy  has  been  fulfilled  in  the 
men  of  our  time  :  They  have  ears,  in  order  not  to  hear,  and  eyes,  in 
order  not  to  see,  aaid  reason,  in  order  not  to  understand.  — F., 


"the  non- acting"  57 

that  the  love  of  one's  neighbour  is  an  advantageous,  use- 
ful, and  good  thing,  and  on  its  basis  to  build  up  life,  or, 
recognizing  that  love  is  an  unrealizable  dream,  to  stop 
talking  of  it.  But  people  still  fail  to  do  either  ;  they  con- 
tinue to  live  contrary  to  love  and  to  extol  it.  They  evi- 
dently believe  that  love  is  possible,  desirable,  and  proper 
for  them,  but  are  unable  to  realize  it.  "What  is  the  cause 
of  it  ?  1 

All  the  great  changes  in  the  life  of  one  man  or  in  the 
life  of  the  whole  of  humanity  begin  and  are  achieved  in 
thought  only.  No  matter  what  external  changes  may 
take  place  in  the  lives  of  men,  no  matter  how  men 
may  preach  the  necessity  of  changing  their  sentiments 
and  acts,  the  hves  of  men  will  not  change,  unless  a  change 
takes  place  in  their  thoughts.  But  let  a  change  take  place 
in  thought,  and  sooner  or  later,  according  to  the  impor- 
tance of  the  change,  it  will  take  place  in  the  feelings 
and  actions  and'  lives  of  men,  and  just  as  inevitably 
as  the  ship  changes  its  direction  after  the  turn  of  the 
rudder. 

Beginning  w^ith  the  first  words  of  His  preaching,  Christ 
did  not  say  to  men :  "  Do  this  way  or  that  way,  have 
such  or  such  feelings,"  but  He  said  to  men :  "  Meravoelre, 
bethink  yourselves,  change  the  comprehension  of  life." 
He  did  not  say  to  men,  "  Love  one  another  "  (this  He  said 
later  to  His  disciples,  men  who  understood  His  teachings), 
but  He  said  to  all  men  what  had  been  said  before  by  His 
predecessor,  John  the  Baptist,  "  Repent,  that  is,  betbink 
yourselves,  change  your  comprehension  of  life,  /xeravoeire, 

1  After  this  follows  in  the  French  version  :  "  What  is  the  cause  of 
the  contradiction  which  has  lasted  for  centuries  ?  It  is  not  that  tlie 
men  of  our  time  have  not  the  desire  or  the  possibility  of  doinij  what 
is  dictated  to  them  by  their  good  sense  and  the  danger  of  their  con- 
dition, and  especially  by  the  law  of  Him  whom  they  call  (iod  and  by 
their  conscience,  but  because  they  do  precisely  what  Zola  advises 
them  to  do  :  they  are  busy,  they  all  work  at  something  begun  long 
ago,  and  are  unable  to  stop  for  the  purpost;  of  concentrating  them- 
selves and  reflecting  on  what  they  should  be." 


58  "the  NON- acting" 

bethink  yourselves,  else  you  will  all  perish."  "  The  mean- 
iug  of  your  life  cannot  consist  in  this :  that  each  of  you 
should  seek  the  separate  good  of  his  personality,  or  the 
good  of  a  certain  aggregate  of  men,"  He  said,  "  because 
this  good,  acquired  at  the  expense  of  other  personalities, 
families,  nations,  who  are  seeking  the  same  with  the  same 
means,  is  obviously  not  only  unattainable,  but  must  inevi- 
tably bring  you  to  perdition.  Understand  that  the  mean- 
ing of  your  life  can  be  only  in  the  fulfilment  of  the  will 
of  Him  who  sent  you  into  it  and  demands  of  you,  not  the 
pursuit  of  your  personal  aims,  but  of  His  end,  which  con- 
sists in  the  establishment  of  union  and  love  among  all 
beings,  in  the  establishment   of    the  kingdom  of  God,^ 

1  "  MeravoeTre,  change  in  such  a  way  that  you  may  understand  life, 
or  you  will  all  perish,"  He  said  eighteen  hundred  years  ago;  and 
at  present  all  the  contradictions  and  all  the  evils  of  our  time  are  due 
to  this,  that  men  have  not  listened  to  Him  and  have  not  accepted  the 
conception  of  life  which  He  proposed  to  them.  MeravoeiTe^  He  said, 
"or  you  will  all  perish."  The  alternative  is  the  same.  The  only 
difference  is  that  it  is  more  pressing  in  our  time.  If  it  was  possible 
two  thousand  years  ago,  at  the  time  of  the  Roman  Empire,  or  even 
at  the  time  of  Charles  V.,  or  even  before  the  Revolution  and  the 
Napoleonic  wars,  not  to  see  the  vanity,  I  shall  even  say  the  absurdity 
of  the  attempts  at  attaining  personal  happiness,  the  happiness  of  the 
family,  the  nation,  or  the  state,  by  means  of  struggling  against  those 
who  try  to  attain  the  same  personal  happiness,  or  that  of  the  family 
or  the  state,  this  illusion  has  become  absolutely  impossible  in  our  time 
for  any  man  who  will  stop,  if  only  for  a  moment,  in  his  work  and 
will  reflect  on  what  he  is,  what  the  world  around  him  is,  and  what  he 
ought  to  be.  Indeed,  if  I  were  called  upon  to  give  just  one  piece  of 
advice,  such  as  I  should  regard  as  most  useful  to  men,  I  would  say 
only  this  to  them  :  "For  God's  sake,  stop  for  a  moment,  cease  work- 
ing, look  about  you,  think  of  what  you  are,  what  you  ought  to  be,  — 
think  of  the  ideal." 

Zola  says  that  the  nations  ought  not  to  look  up  to  or  to  believe  in 
a  superior  force,  nor  to  rave  about  an  ideal.  Probably  Zola  under- 
stands by  the  word  "  ideal  "  either  the  supernatural,  that  is,  the  theo- 
logical balderdash  about  the  Trinity,  the  church,  the  Pope,  etc.,  or 
the  inexplicable,  as  he  says,  the  forces  of  the  vast  universe  in  which 
we  welter.  And  in  this  case  people  will  do  well  to  follow  Zola's 
advice.  But  the  ideal  is  neither  the  supernatural  nor  the  inexpli- 
cable. The  ideal  is,  on  the  contrary,  the  most  natirral  thing  possible, 
and,  I  shall  not  say  the  most  explicable,  but  the  most  certain  thing 
for  man. 


"the  non- acting"  59 

(7m)  when  the  swords  shall  be  forged  into  ploughshares  and 
the  spears  into  pruning-hooks,  and  the  lion  shall  lie  with 
the  lamb,  as  the  prophets  expressed  it.  Change  your 
comprehension  of  life,  or  else  you  will  perish,"  said  He. 
But  men  have  paid  no  attention  to  Christ  and  have  not 
changed  their  comprehension  of  life,  and  have  retained  it 
until  the  present.  And  it  is  this  false  conception  of  life, 
which  men  have  retained,  in  spite  of  the  complexity  of 
the  forms  of  life  and  the  development  of  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  men  of  our  time,  that  is  the  cause  why  men, 
comprehending  the  whole  beneficence  of  love,  the  whole 
perilousness  of  life,  which  is  opposed  to  it,  recognizing  it 
as  the  law  of  their  God  or  the  law  of  life,  are  none  the 
less  unable  to  follow  it. 

Indeed,  what  chance  has  a  man  of  our  life,  who  assumes 
the  aim  of  his  life  to  lie  in  his  personal  or  domestic  or 
national  good,  which  is  attained  only  by  a  tense  struggle 
with  other  men  striving  for  the  same,  to  love  those  who 
are  always  in  his  way,  and  whom  he  must  inevitably  ruin 
in  order  that  he  may  attain  his  own  ends  ? 

The  ideal,  in  geometiy,  is  the  absolutely  straight  line  and  the  circle 
all  radii  of  which  are  equal  ;  in  science,  it  is  pure  truth  ;  in  morality 

perfect  virtue.    Though  all  these  things,  the  straight  line,  and  pure 

truth  and  perfect  virtue,  have  never  existed,  they  are  none  the  less 
natural,  better  known,  and  more  explicable  to  us  than  all  our  other 
knowledge  ;  but  they  are  the  things  which  we  know  truly  and  with 
absolute  certainty. 

It  is  generally  said  that  reality  is  what  exists,  or  rather,  that  only 
that  which  exists  is  real.  The  very  opposite  is  true  :  true  reality,  the 
one  we  know  truly,  is  what  has  never  existed.  The  ideal  is  the  only 
thing  which  we  know  with  certainty:  and  that  has  never  existed.  It 
is  only  thanks  to  the  ideal  that  we  know  anything  whatever,  and  so 
it  is  only  the  ideal  that  can  guide  us  as  individuals  and  as  humanity 
in  our  existence.  The  Christian  ideal  has  been  before  us  for  eighteen 
centuries  ;  it  burns  in  our  time  with  such  intensity  that  we  have  to 
make  great  efforts  in  order  not  to  see  that  all  our  evils  are  due  to  our 
not  taking  it  as  our  guide.  And  the  more  difficult  it  is  getting  not  to 
see  this,  the  more  do  certain  men  increase  their  efforts  to  persuade  us 
to  do  as  they  do,  to  siiut  our  eyes,  in  order  tliat  we  may  not  see  it. 
To  be  sure  of  getting  to  our  destination,  we  must  throw  the  compass 
overboard,  they  say,  and  never  stop.  —  F. 


60  "the  non- acting" 

(oo)  For  a  change  of  feelings  and  acts  to  take  place, 
there  must  first  of  all  take  place  a  change  of  thoughts. 
For  a  change  of  thoughts  to  take  place,  a  man  must  neces- 
sarily stop  and  turn  his  attention  to  what  he  must  under- 
stand. For  people,  who  with  cries  and  the  rumble  of 
wheels  are  borne  to  the  precipice,  to  hear  what  is  being 
shouted  by  those  who  want  to  save  them,  they  must  first 
of  all  stop,  (pp)  Else,  how  will  a  man  change  his 
thoughts,  his  conception  of  life,  if  he  shall  without  cessa- 
tion, with  infatuation,  and  even  urged  on  by  men,  who 
assure  him  that  this  is  necessary,  work  on  the  basis 
of  the  same  false  conception  of  life  which  he  ought  to 
change  ? 

Men's  sufferings  arising  from  the  false  conception  of 
life  have  become  so  acute,  the  good  given  by  the  true 
comprehension  of  hfe  has  become  so  clear  and  obvious  to 
all,  that,  for  men  to  change  their  life  in  conformity  with 
their  consciousness,  they  must  in  our  time  undertake 
nothing,  do  nothing,  but  must  only  stop,  cease  doing  what 
they  have  been  doing,  concentrate  themselves,  and  think. 

(qq)  The  men  of  our  Christian  world  are  in  the  condi- 
tion in  which  men  would  be,  if  they  were  tugging  at  a 
light  load  and  kept  pulling  in  the  opposite  directions, 
only  because  in  their  hurry  they  do  not  have  the  time  to 
come  to  an  agreement. 

(rr)  If  in  former  times,  when  the  wretchedness  of  the 
pagan  life  and  the  good  promised  in  love  had  not  yet 
been  made  so  clear,  people  were  able  unconsciously  to 
maintain  slavery,  executions,  and  wars,  and  with  sensible 
arguments  to  defend  their  position,  this  has  become  abso- 
lutely impossible  at  present ;  the  men  of  our  time  can 
live  a  pagan  life,  but  they  cannot  justify  it.  (ss)  The 
men  of  our  Christian  world  need  only  stop  for  a  moment 
in  their  activity,  consider  their  position,  apply  the  de- 
mands of  their  reason  and  heart  to  the  conditions  of  life 
which  surround  them,  in  order  that  they  may  see  that 


"the  non- acting"  61 

their  whole  life,  all  their  acts,  are  a  constant  crying  con- 
tradiction to  their  conscience,  reason,  and  heart. 

Ask  each  man  of  our  time,  separately,  what  he  is 
guided  by  and  what  he  considers  it  is  necessary  to  be 
guided  by  in  his  life,  and  nearly  every  one  will  tell  you 
that  he  is  guided  by  justice,  if  not  by  love,  (tt)  that  he 
personally,  recognizing  either  the  obligatoriness  of  the 
Christian  teaching,  or  the  moral  worldly  principles,  which 
are  based  on  the  same  Christianity,  submits  to  these  con- 
ditions of  life  only  because  they  are  necessary  for  other 
people ;  ask  another,  a  third,  and  they  will  say  the  same. 
(iiu)  And  they  are  all  sincere.  According  to  the  quality 
of  their  consciousness,  the  majority  of  the  men  of  our 
time  ought  long  ago  to  have  lived  as  Christians  among 
themselves.  See  how  they  live  in  reahty :  they  live  like 
beasts.^ 

(yv)  And  thus  the  majority  of  the  men  of  the  Chris- 
tian world  live  a  pagan  life,  not  so  much  because  they 
wish  to  hve  thus,  as  because  the  structure  of  life,  which 
at  one  time  was  necessary  to  men  with  an  entirely  differ- 
ent consciousness,  has  remained  the  same  and  is  supported 
by  the  turmoil  of  life,  which  gives  them  no  time  to  be- 
think themselves  and  to  change  it  according  to  their 
consciousness. 

(vnv)  Men  need  but  stop  for  a  time  doing  what  they 
are  advised  to  do  by  Zola  and  by  his  supposed  adver- 
saries, by  all  those  who,  under  the  pretext  of  a  slow  and 
gradual  progress,  wish  to  retain  the  existing  order,  —  stop 
stultifying  themselves  with  false  beliefs  and,  above  all, 
with  incessant,  self-satisfying  work  in  matters  which  are 
not  justified  by  their  consciences,  and  they  will  see  at 
once  that  the  meaning  of  their  life  cannot  be  the  obvi- 

'  Thus,  for  the  gi'eat  majority  of  the  men  of  our  Christian  world, 
the  orf^aiiization  of  their  life  is  not  the  result  of  their  manner  of  see- 
ing and  feeling,  but  is  due  to  the  fact  tliat  certain  forms,  once  neces- 
sary, continue  to  exist  up  to  the  present,  through  nothing  but  the 
inertia  of  social  life.  —  F. 


62  "the  non- acting 


>» 


ously  deceptive  striving  after  the  individual,  domestic, 
national,  or  political  good,  which  is  based  on  the  struggle 
with  others ;  they  would  see  that  the  only  possible,  sen- 
sible meaning  of  life  is  the  one  which  more  than  eighteen 
hundred  years  ago  was  revealed  by  Christianity  to  mau- 
kind.i 

(xx)  The  feast  has  long  been  ready  and  all  have  long 
ago  been  called  to  it ;  but  one  has  bought  land,  another 
is  getting  married,  a  third  is  examining  his  oxen,  a  fourth 
is  building  a  railroad  or  a  factory,  or  is  busy  with  mis- 
sionary work  in  Japan  or  India,  or  preaches,  or  introduces 
"  Home  rule  "  bills  or  a  military  law,  or  overthrows  it,  or 
passes  an  examination,  or  writes  a  learned  work,  a  poem, 
a  novel.  They  have  all  no  time,  no  time  to  come  to  their 
senses,  to  bethink  themselves,  to  look  at  themselves  and 
at  the  world,  and  to  ask  themselves :  "  What  am  I  doing  ? 
What  for  ?  It  cannot  be  that  the  force  which  brought 
me  into  the  world,  with  my  qualities  of  mind  and  love, 
should  have  produced  me  with  these  for  no  other  purpose 
than  to  deceive  me,  for  no  other  purpose  than  that  I, 
imagining  that  for  the  attainment  of  the  greatest  good  for 
my  perishing  personality,  I  may  dispose  of  my  own  life,  and 
of  that  of  others  as  I  please,  should  convince  myself  at 
last  that  the  more  I  try  to  do  so,^  (y?/)  the  worse  it  is  for 

^The  last  paragraph  runs  as  follows  in  the  French  version  :  "Let 
the  people  of  our  Christian  world  stop  in  their  labours  and  reflect  for 
a  moment  on  their  condition,  and  they  will  involuntarily  be  led  to 
accept  the  conception  of  life  which  is  given  by  Christianity,  a  concep- 
tion which  is  so  natural,  so  simply  and  so  completely  in  correspond- 
ence with  the  needs  of  the  spirit  and  the  heart  of  humanity,  that  it 
would  be  produced  almost  of  its  own  accord  in  the  understanding 
of  him  who  would  be  liberated,  if  only  for  a  moment,  from  the  fetters 
which  hold  him  through  the  complication  of  his  work  and  of  the 
work  of  others." 

2  The  more  I  shall  find  myself  in  contradiction  with  my  reason  and 
my  desire  to  love  and  be  loved,  and  the  more  disenchantment  and 
suffering  I  shall  experience.  And  is  it  not  more  probable  that,  since 
I  did  not  come  into  the  world  spontaneously,  but  by  the  will  of  Him 
who  sent  me,  my  reason  and  my  desire  to  love  and  be  loved  have  been 
given  me  only  to  guide  me  in  the  accomplishment  of  this  will  ?  —  F. 


"the  non- acting"  63 

me,  my  family,  my  country,  and  the  more  I  depart  from 
the  demands  of  love  and  reason  wliich  are  implanted  in 
me  and  which  do  not  for  a  moment  cease  putting  forth 
their  demands,  and  from  the  true  good.  It  cannot  be  that 
these  highest  qualities  of  my  soul  should  be  given  me 
only  to  act  as  fetters  on  the  legs  of  a  captive,  by  interfer- 
ing with  me  in  the  attainment  of  my  aims.  And  is  it  not 
more  likely  that  the  force  which  has  sent  me  into  the 
world  has  produced  me  with  my  reason  and  my  love, 
not  for  any  accidental  momentary  ends,  which  are  always 
contrary  to  the  ends  of  other  beings  (which  it  could  not 
do,  since  I  and  my  aims  did  not  yet  exist  w^hen  it  pro- 
duced me),  but  for  the  attainment  of  its  own  ends,  to 
cooperate  with  which  these  fundamental  qualities  of  my 
soul  are  given  me  ?  And  so  would  it  not  be  better  for 
me,  instead  of  persisting  in  following  my  own  will  and 
the  will  of  other  men,  who  are  opposed  to  these  higher 
qualities  and  who  bring  me  to  these  misfortunes,  once 
and  for  all  to  recognize  as  the  aim  of  my  life  the  fulfil- 
ment of  the  will  of  Him  who  sent  me  and  in  everything 
and  always,  in  spite  of  all  other  considerations,  to 
follow  only  those  indications  of  reason  and  love  which 
He  has  implanted  in  me  for  the  fulfilment  of  His 
will? 

Such  is  the  Christian  conception  of  life,  which  begs  for 
recognition  in  the  soul  of  every  man  of  our  time.  To 
realize  the  kingdom  of  God,  it  is  necessary  for  all  men 
to  begin  to  love  one  another  without  distinction  of  per- 
sonalities, families,  nationalities.  For  people  to  be  able 
to  love  one  another  in  this  way,  it  is  necessary  for  their 
life-conception  to  be  changed.  For  their  Hfe-conceptiou 
to  be  changed,  it  is  necessary  for  them  to  come  to  their 
senses,  and  for  them  to  come  to  their  senses,  they  must 
first  stop  for  a  little  while  in  that  feverish  activity  to 
which  they  are  devoted  in  the  name  of  affairs  demanded 
by  their  pagan  conception  of  life ;  they  must,  at  least  for 


64  ''the  non- acting" 

a  time,  free  themselves  from  what  the  Hindoos  call 
"  sansara,"  that  turmoil  of  life  which  more  than  anything 
else  keeps  people  from  understanding  the  meaning  of 
their  existence. 

The  wretchedness  of  the  pagan  life  and  the  clearness 
and  diffusion  of  the  Christian  consciousness  have  reached 
such  a  point  in  our  time  that  people  need  but  stop  in 
their  turmoil,  in  order  at  once  to  see  the  senseless- 
ness of  their  activity,  and  the  Christian  conception 
would  as  inevitably  form  itself  in  their  conscious- 
ness as  water  freezes  in  the  cold,  as  soon  as  it  is 
not  stirred. 

{zz)  People  need  only  make  this  life-conception  their 
own,  and  their  love  of  one  another,  of  all  men,  of  every- 
thing living,  which  now  is  to  be  found  in  them  in  a 
latent  form,  will  as  inevitably  be  manifested  in  their 
activity  and  become  the  prime  mover  of  all  their  acts,  as 
now,  with  the  pagan  conception  of  life,  there  is  manifested 
love  toward  oneself,  toward  the  family  exclusively,  to- 
ward one's  nation  exclusively. 

This  Christian  love  need  only  be  manifested  in  men, 
and  the  old  forms  of  life  will  fall  of  themselves,  without 
the  least  effort,  and  there  will  be  new  forms  of  the  bliss- 
ful life,  the  absence  of  which  presents  itself  to  men  as  the 
chief  obstacle  in  the  realization  of  what  their  reason  and 
heart  have  long  been  demanding. 

If  people  employed  but  one-hundredth  part  of  the 
energy,  which  now  they  apply  to  the  performance  of  all 
kinds  of  material,  unjustifiable  acts,  which,  therefore, 
bedim  their  consciousness,  in  the  elucidation  of  this  same 
consciousness,  and  for  the  fulfilment  of  what  it  demands 
of  them,  then  much  more  quickly  and  much  more  simply 
than  we  can  imagine  it,  there  would  be^  established  the 

'  Would  be  accomplished  amidst  ils  the  change  which  Dumas  pre- 
dicts and  which  the  prophets  have  predicted,  and  men  would  attain 
the  good  promised  by  Jesus  in  His  good  news.  —  F. 


"the  non- acting"  65 

kingdom  of  God,  which  He  demands  of  them,  and  men 
would  find  the  good  which  was  promised  to  them. 

"  Seek  ye  the  kiugdom  of  God  and  His  righteousness, 
and  all  these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you." 

August  9, 1893. 


THREE      PARABLES 

1895 


THREE    PARABLES 


PARABLE   THE   FIRST 

Weeds  grew  up  in  a  good  meadow.  To  get  rid  of 
them,  the  owners  of  the  meadow  mowed  them  down,  but 
the  weeds  only  grew  more  numerous.  And  a  good  and 
wise  husbandman  visited  the  owners  of  the  meadow, 
and  among  other  instructions  which  he  gave  them,  he 
said  that  the  weeds  ought  not  to  be  mowed  down,  for  that 
made  tbiem  only  grow  more  numerous,  but  that  they 
ought  to  be  torn  out  by  the  root. 

But,  because  the  owners  of  the  meadow  did  not  notice, 
among  the  other  injunctions  of  the  good  husbandman,  the 
injunction  that  they  should  not  mow  down  the  weeds, 
but  should  tear  them  out,  or  because  they  did  not  under- 
stand him,  or  because,  for  reasons  of  their  own,  they  did 
not  wish  to  do  so,' the  injunction  about  not  mowing  the 
weeds,  but  tearing  them  out,  was  not  fulfilled,  as  though 
it  had  never  existed,  and  the  people  continued  to  mow 
the  weeds  and  to  spread  them.  And  although  m  the  fol- 
lowing years  there  were  some  men  who  reminded  the 
owners  of  the  meadow  of  the  injunction  of  the  good  and 
wise  husbandman,  no  attention  was  paid  to  them,  and  the 
owners  continued  to  act  as  before,  so  that  it  not  only  be- 
came a  habit  with  them,  but  even  a  sacred  tradition,  to 
mow  down  the  weeds  as  soon  as  they  appeared,  and  the 
meadow  became  more  and  more  covered  with  weeds.  It 
finally  went  so  far  that  nothing  was  left  in  the  meadow 

69 


70  THREE   PARABLES 

but  weeds,  and  people  complained  and  tried  to  find  all 
kinds  of  ways  to  mend  matters,  but  they  did  not  make 
use  of  the  one  means  which  had  long  ago  been  prescribed 
to  them  by  the  good  and  wise  husbandman.  And  it 
happened  that  a  man,  who  at  last  saw  the  evil  phght  in 
which  the  meadow  was,  and  who  in  the  forgotten  injunc- 
tions of  the  husbandman  had  found  the  rule  that  the 
weeds  were  not  to  be  mowed  down,  but  to  be  plucked  out 
by  the  root,  reminded  the  owners  of  the  meadow  that  they 
acted  unwisely,  and  that  their  unwisdom  had  long  ago 
been  pointed  out  by  the  good  and  wise  husbandman. 

Well  ?  Instead  of  verifying  the  correctness  of  what 
the  man  reminded  them  of,  and,  in  case  it  was  found  to 
be  correct,  desisting  from  the  mowing  of  the  weeds,  and, 
in  case  it  was  found  to  be  incorrect,  proving  to  him  the 
injustice  of  his  reminder,  or  recognizing  the  injunctions 
of  the  good  and  wise  husbandman  as  ill-grounded  and 
non-obligatory  for  themselves,  the  owners  of  the.  meadow 
did  none  of  these  things,  but  took  umbrage  at  the  man's 
reminder  and  began  to  scold  him.  Some  called  him  a 
senseless  and  proud  man,  who  imagined  that  he  was  the 
only  one  of  them  all  who  understood  the  husbandman's 
injunction ;  others  called  him  a  malicious  misinterpreter 
and  calumniator ;  others  again,  forgetting  that  he  had  not 
spoken  in  his  own  name,  but  had  reminded  them  only  of 
the  injunctions  of  the  universally  respected  wise  husband- 
man, called  him  a  dangerous  man,  who  wished  to  spread 
the  weeds  and  deprive  people  of  their  meadow. 

"  He  says  that  we  ought  not  to  mow  the  weeds ;  but  if 
we  do  not  destroy  the  weeds,"  they  said,  intentionally 
misrepresenting  the  man  as  saying  that  they  ought  not  to 
destroy  the  weeds,  whereas  he  only  said  that  the  weeds 
should  not  be  mowed  down,  but  plucked  out,  "  the  weeds 
will  grow  rank  and  will  entirely  ruin  our  meadow.  And 
why  is  the  meadow  given  to  us,  if  we  are  to  raise  weeds 
in  it  ? " 


THREE   PARABLES  71 

And  the  opiuion  that  this  man  was  a  madman,  or  a 
false  interpreter,  or  had  in  view  the  detriment  of  people 
became  so  thoroughly  confirmed  that  everybody  scolded 
him  and  made  fun  of  him.  And  no  matter  how  much 
this  man  explained  that,  far  from  wishing  to  spread  the 
weeds,  he  considered  the  destruction  of  the  weeds  to  be 
one  of  the  chief  occupations  of  a  farmer,  as  this  was  under- 
stood by  the  good  and  wise  husbandman,  of  whose  words 
he  remined  them,  —  no  matter  how  much  he  spoke  of 
this,  —  they  paid  no  attention  to  him,  because  it  was 
definitely  decided  that  he  was  either  mad  and  proud, 
who  perversely  interpreted  the  words  of  the  good  and 
wise  husbandman,  or  a  rascal,  who  did  not  call  people  to 
destroy  the  weeds,  but  to  keep  and  increase  them. 

The  same  thing  happened  to  me,  when  I  pointed  out 
the  injunction  of  the  Gospel  teaching  concerning  non- 
resistance  to  evil.  This  rule  was  prescribed  by  Christ, 
and  after  Him  at  all  times  by  all  His  true  disciples.  But, 
either  because  they  did  not  notice  this  rule,  or  because 
they  did  not  understand  it,  or  because  the  fulfilment  of 
this  rule  appeared  too  difficult  to  them,  this  rule  was  for- 
gotten as  time  went  on,  and  matters  came  to  such  a  pass, 
as  at  the  present  time,  that  this  rule  has  come  to  seem  to 
people  to  be  something  new,  unheard-of,  strange,  and 
even  mad.  And  to  me  happened  the  same  that  had 
happened  to  the  man  who  pointed  out  to  the  people 
the  old  injunction  of  the  good  and  wise  husbandman,  that 
the  weeds  ought  not  to  be  mowed  down,  but  plucked  out 
by  the  root. 

Just  as  the  owners  of  the  meadow,  intentionally  pass- 
ing over  in  silence  the  fact  that  the  advice  was  not  to 
the  effect  that  the  weeds  were  not  to  be  destroyed,  but 
that  they  should  be  destroyed  in  a  sensible  manner,  said, 
"We  will  not  listen  to  this  man,  —  he  is  a  madman,  he 
tells  us  not  to  mow  down  the  weeds,  but  to  multiply 
them,"  so  in  reply  to  my  words,  that,  in  order  according 


72  THKEE    PAKABLES 

to  Christ's  words  to  destroy  evil,  it  is  necessary  not  to 
resist  it  with  violence,  but  to  destroy  it  by  the  root  with 
love,  they  said,  "  We  will  not  listen  to  him,  —  he  is  a 
madman :  he  advises  us  not  to  resist  evil,  in  order  that 
the  evil  may  crush  us." 

What  I  said  was,  that,  according  to  Christ's  teaching, 
evil  cannot  be  rooted  out  with  evil,  that  every  resistance 
to  evil  with  violence  only  increases  the  evil,  that,  accord- 
ing to  Christ's  teaching,  evil  is  rooted  out  with  good, 
"  Bless  them  that  curse  you,  do  good  to  them  that  hate 
you,  love  your  enemies,  and  you  will  have  no  enemy  " 
(The  Teaching  of  the  Twelve  Apostles).  I  said  that, 
according  to  Christ's  teaching,  man's  whole  life  is  a  strug- 
gle with  evil,  a  resistance  to  evil  by  means  of  reason  and 
love,  but  that  from  all  the  means  of  resisting  evil  Christ 
excludes  the  one  senseless  means  of  resisting  evil  with 
evil,  which  consists  in  fighting  evil  by  evil. 

And  these  words  of  mine  were  understood  to  mean 
that  I  said  that  Christ  said  that  we  ought  not  to  resist 
evil.  And  all  those  whose  hfe  is  based  on  violence,  and 
to  whom,  therefore,  violence  is  dear,  gladly  accepted  such 
an  interpretation  of  my  words  and,  with  them,  of  the 
words  of  Christ,  and  they  declared  that  the  doctrine  of 
non-resistance  to  evil  was  false,  insipid,  impious,  and 
harmful.  And  people  calmly  continue,  under  the  guise 
of  destroying  evil,  to  produce  evil. 


PARABLE   THE   SECOND 

Some  people  dealt  in  flour,  milk,  and  all  kinds  of  eat- 
ables, and  vying  with  one  another,  in  their  desire  to  earn 
as  much  as  possible  and  grow  quickly  rich,  they  began 
more  and  more  to  mix  in  with  their  wares  all  kinds  of 
cheap  and  harmful  ingredients  :  they  mixed  the  flour  with 
bran  and  lime,  the  butter  with  oleomargarine,  the  milk 
with  water  and  chalk.  And  so  long  as  the  commodities  did 
not  reach  the  consumers  everything  went  well :  the  jobbers 
sold  them  to  the  wholesale  dealers,  and  the  wholesale 
dealers  sold  them  to  the  retailers. 

There  were  a  large  number  of  warehouses  and  shops, 
and  the  trade  seemed  to  be  brisk.  The  merchants  were 
satisfied.  But  it  was  very  unpleasant  and  dangerous  for 
the  city  consumers,  who  did  not  themselves  produce  their 
provisions  and  so  were  obliged  to  purchase  them. 

The  flour  was  bad,  and  so  were  the  butter  and  the  milk, 
but  as  none  but  adulterated  products  could  be  found  in 
the  markets  of  the  cities,  the  city  consumers  continued 
to  buy  them,  and  accused  themselves  and  the  poor  prepa- 
ration of  the  food  for  the  bad  taste  and  their  ill  health, 
while  the  merchants  kept  putting  more  and  more  foreign 
cheap  ingredients  into  the  articles  of  food. 

Thus  it  went  on  for  quite  awhile ;  the  city  dwellers 
suffered,  and  no  one  thought  of  expressing  his  dissatisfac- 
tion. 

A  countrywoman,  who  had  always  fed  her  family  on 
home  products,  happened  to  come  to  the  city.  This 
woman  had  all  her  life  prepared  food,  and  although  she 

73 


74  THREE    PARABLES 

was  not  a  famous  cook,  she  knew  how  to  hake  hread  and 
cook  dinners. 

This  woman  hought  provisions  iu  the  city  and  began 
to  bake  and  cook.  The  loaves  did  not  bake  well,  but 
fell.  The  flat  cakes  prepared  with  the  oleo  did  not  taste 
good.  She  set  milk,  but  got  no  cream.  She  guessed  at 
once  that  the  provisions  were  not  good.  She  examined 
them,  and  her  guess  proved  true :  in  the  flour  she  found 
lime,  in  the  butter  oleomargarine,  iu  the  milk  chalk. 
When  she  saw  that  all  the  provisions  were  adulterated, 
she  went  to  the  market  and  began  loudly  to  arraign  the 
merchants  and  to  demand  of  them,  either  that  they  should 
keep  in  their  shops  good,  nutritious,  unadulterated  pro- 
visions, or  should  stop  trading  and  shut  up  their  shops. 
But  the  merchants  paid  no  attention  to  her,  and  told  her 
that  their  articles  were  of  the  best  quality,  that  the  city 
had  been  buying  them  from  them  for  several  years,  and 
that  they  even  had  medals,  which  they  showed  her  on 
their  signs.     But  the  woman  would  not  be  quieted. 

"  I  do  not  need  any  medals,"  she  said,  "  but  wholesome 
food,  such  as  will  not  give  my  children  any  stomach- 
ache." 

"  Dear  woman,  you  have  apparently  not  seen  any  real 
flour  and  butter,"  the  merchants  said  to  her,  pointing  to 
the  white,  clean  flour  in  lacquered  flour-chests,  to  the 
miserable  semblance  of  butter  in  beautiful  dishes,  and  to 
the  white  liquid  in  shining  transparent  vessels. 

"  How  can  I  help  but  know,"  said  the  woman,  "  since 
I  have  done  nothing  my  whole  life  but  prepare  food  for 
my  children  and  eat  it  with  them  ?  Your  articles  are 
adulterated.  Here  is  the  proof,"  she  said,  showing  them 
the  spoiled  loaf,  the  oleo  in  the  cakes,  and  the  sediment 
in  the  milk.  "  Your  articles  ought  all  to  be  thrown  into 
the  river  or  burned,  and  other,  good  ones  ought  to  be  got 
instead." 

And  the  woman  kept  standing  in  front  of  the  shops 


THREE    PARABLES  75 

and  calling  out  to  the  purchasers,  as  they  came  along, 
and  the  purchasers  began  to  be  disturbed. 

Seeing  that  the  bold  woman  might  interfere  with  their 
trade,  the  merchants  said  to  the  purchasers  :  "  Gentlemen, 
see  how  insane  this  woman  is :  she  wants  to  starve  people 
to  death.  She  tells  us  to  throw  all  the  eatables  into  the 
river  or  burn  them.  What  are  you  going  to  eat,  if  we 
obey  her  and  stop  selling  you  provisions  ?  Pay  no  atten- 
tion to  her,  —  she  is  a  coarse  countrywoman  and  does 
not  know  anything  about  provisions,  and  is  attacking  us 
only  through  envy.  She  is  poor  and  wants  us  to  be  as 
poor  as  she." 

Thus  the  merchants  spoke  to  the  crowd  assembled, 
purposely  concealing  the  fact  that  the  woman  did  not 
wish  to  destroy  the  provisions,  but  only  to  substitute 
good  provisions  for  the  bad. 

Then  the  crowd  attacked  the  woman  and  began  to 
call  her  names.  And  no  matter  how  much  the  woman 
assured  them  all  that  she  did  not  wish  to  destroy  the  pro- 
visions, having  all  her  life  done  nothing  but  feed  others 
and  herself,  but  that  she  wished  that  all  the  people  who 
took  upon  themselves  the  provisioning  of  men  should  not 
poison  them  with  injurious  articles  under  the  guise  of 
food,  —  no  matter  how  long  she  spoke  and  what  she  said, 
no  attention  was  paid  to  her,  because  it  was  decided  that 
she  wanted  to  deprive  people  of  the  food  which  was  indis- 
pensable to  them. 

The  same  thing  happened  with  me  in  relation  to  the 
science  and  art  of  our  time.  I  subsisted  all  my  life  on 
this  food,  and,  whether  well  or  ill,  tried  to  feed  others 
whom  I  could  reach  with  it.  And  since  this  is  my  food,  and 
not  an  article  of  commerce  or  luxury,  I  know  beyond  any 
doubt  when  the  food  is  food,  and  when  it  only  resembles 
food.  And  when  I  tried  the  food  which  in  our  time  is 
being  sold  in  the  intellectual  market  under  the  guise  of 
science  and  art,  and  tried  to  feed  on  it  the  people  whom 


76  THREE    PARABLES 

I  love,  I  saw  that  a  great  part  of  this  food  was  not 
geuuiue.  And  when  I  said  that  the  science  and  art  in 
which  people  trafficked  in  the  intellectual  market  were 
oleomargarine,  or  at  least  adulterated  with  great  quanti- 
ties of  substances  which  were  foreign  to  true  art  and 
true  science,  and  that  I  knew  this,  because  the  products 
bought  by  me  in  the  intellectual  market  proved  inedible 
both  for  me  and  for  my  neighbours,  not  only  inedible,  but 
absolutely  injurious,  they  began  to  shout  and  yell  at  me, 
and  to  impress  upon  me  that  that  was  due  to  my  not 
being  learned  and  to  my  being  unable  to  handle  such 
profound  subjects.  But  when  I  began  to  prove  to  them 
that  the  traders  in  these  intellectual  wares  were  them- 
selves accusing  one  another  of  deception;  when  I  re- 
minded them  that  in  all  times  much  that  was  injurious 
and  bad  had  been  offered  to  people  under  the  name  of 
science  and  art,  and  that,  therefore,  the  same  danger  con- 
fronted us  in  our  time,  that  this  was  not  a  trifling  matter, 
but  a  spiritual  poisoning,  which  was  many  times  more 
dangerous  than  a  poisoning  of  the  body,  and  that,  there- 
fore, we  had  with  the  greatest  care  to  examine  those 
spiritual  products  which  were  offered  to  us  in  the  .form  of 
food,  and  cautiously  to  reject  everything  spurious  and 
harmful,  —  when  I  began  to  tell  them  all  that,  no  one, 
no  one,  not  one  man,  in  not  a  single  article  or  book, 
controverted  my  arguments,  but  from  all  the  shops  they 
began  to  shout,  as  to  that  woman  :  "  He  is  mad !  He 
wants  to  destroy  science  and  art,  that  which  we  live  by. 
Beware  of  him,  and  pay  no  attention  to  him !  Come 
this  way,  gentlemen !  We  have  the  latest  imported 
goods ! " 


PARABLE   THE   TRIED 

Some  people  were  walking.  They  lost  their  road,  so 
that  they  no  longer  walked  over  a  smooth  road,  but  over 
swamps,  thorn-bushes,  and  brushwood,  which  barred  their 
way,  and  it  became  harder  and  harder  to  move  on. 

Then  the  travellers  divided  into  two  parties:  one  of 
them  decided  to  walk  straight  on  in  the  direction  in 
which  they  had  been  walking,  assuring  themselves  and 
others  that  they  had  not  lost  the  right  direction  and 
would  after  all  arrive  at  the  goal  of  their  journey.  The 
other  party  decided  that,  since  the  direction  in  which  they 
were  now  going  was  obviously  wrong,  —  or  else  they  would 
have  arrived  at  the  goal  of  their  journey,  —  it  was  neces- 
sary to  look  for  the  road,  and  that,  to  find  it,  it  was 
necessary  without  stopping  to  move  as  fast  as  possible  in 
every  direction.  All  the  travellers  were  divided  among 
these  two  opinions :  some  decided  to  walk  straight  ahead, 
while  the  others  decided  to  walk  in  all  directions ;  but 
there  was  found  one  man  who,  not  agreeing  with  either 
opinion,  said  that,  before  going  in  the  direction  in  which 
they  had  been  walking,  or  beginning  to  move  rapidly  in 
all  directions,  in  the  hope  of  thus  finding  what  was  right, 
they  should  first  stop  and  reflect  on  their  situation,  and 
then  only,  after  having  reflected  upon  it,  undertake  one 
thing  or  another.  But  the  travellers  were  so  excited  by 
their  motion,  so  frightened  at  their  situation,  so  much  wished 
to  console  themselves  with  the  hope  that  they  had  not 
lost  their  way,  but  had  only  for  a  little  while  got  off  the 
road  and  would  soon  find  it  again,  and,  above  all,  were  so 
desirous  by  means  of  motion  to  drown  their  terror,  that 

77 


78  THREE    PARABLES 

this  opinion  was  met  with  universal  indignation,  rebukes, 
and  scorn  on  the  part  of  the  men  of  either  party. 

"  This  is  the  advice  of  weakness,  cowardice,  and  indo- 
lence," said  some. 

"  It  is  a  fine  way  to  reach  the  goal  of  a  journey,  —  just 
to  sit  in  one  place  and  not  move  on ! "  said  others. 

"  That  is  what  we  are  people  for,  and  strength  is  given 
us  precisely  for  struggling  and  labouring,  overcoming  bar- 
riers, and  not  for  faint-heartedly  submitting  to  them,"  said 
others  again. 

And  no  matter  how  much  the  man  who  had  separated 
from  the  majority  told  them  that  by  moving  in  a  false 
direction,  without  changing  it,  we  certainly  do  not  approach 
our  goal,  but  get  away  from  it ;  and  that  we  shall  as  little 
reach  our  aim,  if  we  toss  from  side  to  side ;  that  the  only 
means  of  arriving  at  our  aim  consists  in  this,  that,  calcu- 
lating by  the  sun  or  stars  what  direction  will  bring  us  to 
our  goal,  we  shall  choose  it  and  walk  that  way ;  but  that, 
to  do  so,  we  must  first  stop,  not  in  order  to  stand  still, 
but  in  order  to  find  the  true  path  and  then  walk  on  it 
unswervingly,  and  that,  for  the  purpose  of  doing  ,all  that, 
it  was  necessary  for  us  first  to  stop  and  bethink  ourselves, 
• —  no  matter  how  much  he  said  all  that,  no  attention  was 
paid  to  him. 

The  first  party  of  the  travellers  went  in  the  direction 
in  which  they  had  been  walking,  while  the  second  began 
to  toss  from  one  side  to  another ;  but  neither  of  them 
came  nearer  to  their  goal,  or  got  out  of  the  bushes  and 
thorns,  and  both  are  still  wandering  about. 

Precisely  the  same  happened  with  me,  when  I  tried  to 
express  my  doubt  that  the  path  on  which  we  have  blun- 
dered into  the  dark  forest  of  the  labour  question  and  into 
the  bog  of  the  never-ending  armaments  of  the  nations, 
which  will  swallow  us  up,  is  not  quite  the  road  over 
which  we  ought  to  walk,  that  it  is  very  likely  that  we 
have  lost  the  road,  and  that,  therefore,  it  would  be  well 


THREE    PARABLES  79 

for  us  for  a  time  to  stop  in  the  motion  which  is  obviously 
wroug,  aud  to  reflect,  tirst  of  all,  according  to  those  general 
and  eternal  principles  of  the  truth  revealed  to  us,  whether 
we  are  going  in  the  direction  which  we  intended  to  take. 
Nobody  answered  this  question,  no  one  said :  "  We  are 
not  mistaken  in  the  direction,  and  are  not  blundering, — 
of  that  we  are  sure  for  such  and  such  reasons."  Nor  did 
one  man  say  that  perhaps  we  were  mistaken,  but  that 
we  possessed  an  unquestionable  means  for  correcting  this 
mistake,  without  interrupting  our  motion.  Nobody  said 
either  tiling.  But  they  all  grew  angry  and  hastened  to 
talk  together  so  as  to  drown  my  solitary  voice :  "  We  are 
indolent  and  behind  the  times,  as  it  is.  And  here  he 
preaches  to  us  laziness,  indolence,  non-action  ! "  Some 
even  added  :  "  Inaction  !  "  "  Pay  no  attention  to  him,  — 
move  on  and  follow  them ! "  cried  those  who  think  that 
salvation  lies  in  following  the  direction  once  chosen,  with- 
out changing  it,  no  matter  what  that  direction  may  be, 
and  also  those  who  think  that  salvation  is  to  be  found  in 
tossing  in  all  directions. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  standing  ?  Why  think  ?  Move 
on  as  fast  as  you  can !  Everything  will  come  out  all 
right ! " 

People  have  lost  their  way  and  suffer  from  that.  It 
would  seem  that  the  first  great  effort  of  energy,  which 
ought  to  be  made,  should  be  directed,  not  upon  the  inten- 
sification of  the  motion  which  has  enticed  us  into  that 
false  position  which  we  now  hold,  but  upon  its  arrest.  It 
would  seem  to  be  clear  that  only  by  stopping  could  we  in 
some  way  come  to  understand  our  position  and  find  the 
direction  in  which  we  must  go  in  order  to  arrive  at  the 
true  good,  not  of  one  man,  nor  of  one  class  of  men,  but  at 
the  true  universal  good  of  humanity,  toward  which  all 
men  and  each  human  heart  in  particular  are  striving. 
Well  ?  People  invent  everything  imaginable,  except  the 
one  thing  which  can  save,  or,  if  not  save  them,  at  least 


80  THKEE    PARABLES 

alleviate  their  situation,  • —  namely,  that  they  should  stop 
for  a  moment  and  cease  increasing  their  wretchedness 
with  their  false  activity.  The  people  feel  the  wretched- 
ness of  their  situation  and  do  everything  in  their  power 
to  be  freed  from  it ;  but  the  one  thing  which  will  certainly 
hghten  their  lot  they  positively  dechne  to  do,  and  the 
advice  that  they  do  so  irritates  them  more  than  anything 
else. 

If  it  were  possible  to  be  in  doubt  about  our  having  lost 
our  way,  this  relation  to  the  advice  that  we  bethink  our- 
selves proves  more  obviously  than  anything  else  how 
hopelessly  we  have  strayed  and  how  great  our  despair  is. 


GOD    OR    MAMMON? 

1895 


GOD  OR  MAMMON? 


No  servant  can  serve  two  masters :  for  either  he  will 
hate  the  one,  and  love  the  other  ;  or  else  he  will  hold  to 
the  one,  and  despise  the  other.  Ye  cannot  serve  God  and 
mammon  (Luke  xvi.  13). 

He  that  is  not  with  me  is  against  me  ;  and  he  that 
gathereth  not  with  me  scattereth  abroad  (Matt.  xli.  30). 

Enormous  expanses  of  the  best  land,  from  which 
millions  of  now  suffering  families  might  have  gained  a 
sustenance,  are  covered  with  tobacco,  grapes,  barley,  hops, 
and,  above  all  else,  rye  and  potatoes,  which  are  used  for 
the  preparation  of  spirituous  beverages,  wine,  beer,  and, 
above  all  else,  whiskey. 

Millions  of  working  people,  who  might  have  been  pro- 
ducing useful  things  for  men,  are  occupied  in  the  manu- 
facture of  these  articles.  It  has  been  figured  out  that  in 
England  one-tenth  part  of  the  working  people  are  busy 
manufacturing  whiskey  and  beer. 

What  are  the  consequences  from  the  preparation  and 
use  of  tobacco,  wine,  whiskey,  and  beer  ? 

There  is  an  old  story  about  a  monk  who  disputed  with 

the  devil,  saying  that  he  would  not  let  him  into  his  cell, 

but  that  if  he  let  him  in,  he  would  do  the  devil's  bidding. 

The   story  tells  how  the  devil  assumed   the   form   of  a 

wounded  raven,  with  a  broken  wing,  who  leaped  about 

pitifully  near  the  door  of  the  monk's  cell.     The  monk 

83 


84  GOD    OR   MAMMON? 

took  pity  on  the  raven  with  the  broken  and  bleeding 
wing  and  took  him  into  his  cell.  Then  the  devil,  upon 
entering  the  cell,  offered  the  monk  the  choice  of  tlnee 
crimes,  —  murder,  adultery,  or  intoxication.  The  monk 
chose  intoxication,  thinkiug  that  in  getting  drunk  he 
would  only  harm  himself.  But  when  he  drank,  he  lost 
his  reason,  went  to  the  village,  and  there  succumbed  to 
the  temptation  of  a  woman  and  committed  adultery,  and 
then  murder,  while  defending  himself  against  the  hus- 
band, who  came  home  and  attacked  him. 

Thus  are  the  consequences  of  drunkenness  described  in 
an  ancient  story,  and  such  in  reality  are  the  consequences 
from  the  use  of  intoxicating  liquors.  A  thief,  a  murderer, 
hardly  ever  commits  a  crime  while  in  a  sober  state. 
From  court  records  it  may  be  seen  that  nine-tenths  of  all 
crimes  are  committed  while  the  criminal  is  drunk.  The 
best  proof  of  the  fact  that  the  greater  number  of  crimes 
are  called  forth  by  wine,  may  be  found  in  the  circum- 
stance that  in  certain  States  of  America,  where  wine  and 
the  importation  of  spirituous  liquors  are  entirely  pro- 
hibited, crimes  have  almost  stopped :  there  are  no  thefts, 
no  robberies,  no  murders,  and  the  prisons  stand  enipty. 

Such  is  one  of  the  consequences  of  the  use  of  intoxicat- 
ing liquors. 

Another  consequence  is  the  harmful  influence  produced 
by  intoxicating  liquors  upon  the  health  of  people.  Not 
only  does  the  use  of  intoxicating  liquors  produce  especial, 
painful  diseases,  which  are  peculiar  only  to  drinking 
people,  but  it  has  also  been  observed  that  drinking  people 
who  get  sick  with  the  common  diseases  do  not  convalesce 
so  easily,  so  that  the  insurance  companies  always  give 
preferred  insurance  on  the  lives  of  those  who  do  not  use 
intoxicating  liquors. 

Such  is  the  second  consequence  of  the  use  of  intoxicat- 
ing liquors. 

The  third,  the  most  terrible,  consequence  of  intoxicating 


GOD    OR   MAMMON?  86 

liquors  is  this,  that  liquor  dims  men's  reason  and  con- 
science: the  use  of  liquor  makes  people  coarser,  more 
stupid,  and  more  evil. 

What  good  is  there  then  in  the  use  of  intoxicating 
liquors  ? 

None  at  all. 

The  defenders  of  whiskey,  wine,  and  beer  used  to  assert 
that  these  beverages  add  health  and  strength,  and  warm  a 
person  up  and  cheer  him.  But  it  has  now  been  proved 
beyond  any  doubt  that  that  is  not  true.  The  intoxicating 
liquors  do  not  add  health,  because  they  contain  a  power- 
ful poison,  —  alcohol,  —  and  the  consumption  of  a  poison 
cannot  be  anything  but  harmful. 

It  has  been  frequently  proved  that  hquor  does  not  add 
to  a  man's  strength,  by  comparing  for  months  and  years 
the  work  of  equally  good  workmen,  of  whom  one  drank 
and  another  did  not,  when  it  appeared  that  the  one  who 
did  not  drink  did  more  and  better  work  than  the  one 
who  drank,  and  by  this,  that  in  those  commands  of 
soldiers  which  during  expeditions  receive  whiskey,  there 
are  always  more  disabled  men  and  stragglers  than  in 
those  where  no  whiskey  is  distributed. 

Similarly  it  has  been  proved  that  liquor  does  not  warm 
a  man  up,  and  that  the  warmth  from  wine  consumed  does 
not  stay  long  with  one,  and  that  after  a  short  period  of 
warmth  a  person  experiences  greater  cold,  so  that  pro- 
longed cold  is  always  harder  on  a  drinker  than  on  one 
who  does  not  drink.  Every  year  people  freeze  to  death 
mainly  from  having  warmed  themselves  up  with  liquor. 

That  the  cheerfulness  which  comes  from  liquor  is  not 
real  and  not  joyous,  there  is  even  no  need  of  proving. 
Everybody  knows  what  cheerfulness  this  is  that  comes 
from  intoxication.  One  need  but  observe  what  is  going 
on  in  the  cities  during  the  holidays  in  the  restaurants, 
and  in  the  villages  during  holidays,  christenings,  and 
weddings.     This   cheerfulness   from    intoxication    always 


86  GOD    OR   MAMMON? 

ends  in  curses,  fights,  broken  limbs,  all  kinds  of  crimes, 
and  the  degradation  of  human  dignity. 

Liquor  gives  neither  health,  nor  strength,  nor  warmth, 
nor  cheerfulness,  but  does  people  much  harm.  And  so,  it 
would  seem,  every  rational,  good  man  ought  not  only  him- 
self to  abstain  from  the  use  of  intoxicating  liquors  and 
from  treating  others  to  them,  but  also  with  all  his 
strength  to  try  to  destroy  the  habit  of  the  use  of  this 
worthless  and  harmful  poison. 

But,  unfortunately,  nothing  of  the  kind  takes  place. 
People  value  so  much  their  old  customs  and  habits,  and 
with  such  difficulty  get  rid  of  them,  that  there  are  in  our 
time  very  many  good,  sensible  people,  who  not  only  do 
not  abstain  from  the  use  of  intoxicating  liquors  and  from 
treating  others  to  them,  but  even  defend  this  use  as  best 
they  can. 

"  It  is  not  the  wine  that  is  blameworthy,"  they  say,  ^ 
"  but  drunkenness.  King  David  said,  '  Wine  gladdens 
the  heart  of  man.'  Christ  in  Cana  of  Galilee  blessed  the 
wine.  If  people  did  not  drink,  the  government  would 
lose  its  most  important  revenue.  It  is  impossible  to 
celebrate  a  holiday,  a  christening,  a  wedding  without 
wine.  How  can  we  abstain  from  drinking  wine  in  clos- 
ing a  bargain,  in  meeting  a  beloved  guest  ? " 

"  Considering  our  work  and  labour,  we  cannot  get  along 
without  drinking,"  says  a  poor  labourer. 

"  If  we  drink  only  on  special  occasions  and  with  modera- 
tion, we  do  not  do  any  one  any  harm,"  say  well-to-do 
people. 

"A  Kuss  taketh  pleasure  in  drinking,"  said  Prince 
Vladimir. 

"  No  one  suffers  from  our  drinking  but  ourselves.  And 
if  we  suffer,  that  is  our  business ;  we  do  not  care  to  teach 
anybody,  and  do  not  want  to  be  taught  by  any  one ;  not 
with  us  did  this  begin,  and  not  with  us  will  it  end,"  say 
unthinking  people. 


GOD    OR    MAMMON?  87 

Thus  speak  drinkers  of  every  condition  and  age,  try- 
ing to  justify  themselves.  But  tliese  justifications,  which 
were  of  some  value  some  decades  ago,  are  now  of  no  use. 
It  was  all  very  well  to  say  this  at  a  time  when  all 
thought  that  the  use  of  intoxicating  hquors  added  to  a 
man's  health  and  strength ;  when  it  was  not  yet  known 
that  liquor  contained  a  poison  which  was  always  injurious 
to  man's  health ;  when  men  did  not  yet  know  of  those 
terrible  consequences'  of  drunkenness,  which  now  are 
before  everybody. 

It  was  possible  to  say  this  when  there  were  not  yet 
those  hundreds  and  thousands  of  people  who  die  an  un- 
timely death  in  terrible  agonies,  only  because  they  have 
become  accustomed  to  drinking  intoxicating  liquors  and 
are  no  longer  able  to  abstain  from  the  use  of  them.  It 
was  all  very  well  to  say  that  wine  was  a  harmless  pleas- 
ure, when  we  did  not  yet  see  those  hundreds  and  thou- 
sands of  hungry,  worn-out  women  and  children,  who 
suffer  only  because  their  husbands  and  fathers  became 
addicted  to  the  use  of  liquor.  It  was  aU  very  well  to  say 
so,  so  long  as  we  did  not  yet  see  those  hundreds  and 
thousands  of  criminals,  who  fiU  the  prisons,  the  places  of 
deportation,  and  the  mines,  and  of  ruined  lewd  women, 
who  fell  into  their  state  only  thanks  to  liquor.  It  was 
all  very  well  to  say  so,  when  we  did  not  know  that 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  people,  who  might  have  lived 
their  lives  in  joy  to  themselves  and  to  people,  wasted  their 
strength  and  their  minds  and  their  souls,  because  there 
exist  intoxicating  liquors,  and  they  were  tempted  by 
them. 

And  so  it  is  not  possible  in  our  day  to  say  that  the 
drinking  or  the  non-drinking  of  liquor  is  a  private  matter, 
that  we  do  not  consider  a  moderate  use  of  liquor  to  be 
harmful  for  us  and  do  not  wish  to  teach  any  one  or  be 
taught  by  any  one,  that  this  did  not  begin  with  us  and 
will  not  end  with  us.     It  is  impossible  to  say  so  now  ;  the 


88  GOD   OR   MAMMON? 

use  of  liquor  or  the  abstinence  from  it  is  in  our  time  not 
a  private,  but  a  common  matter. 

Now  all  people  —  whether  they  wish  it  or  not  —  are 
divided  into  two  camps :  some  struggle  against  the  use  of 
the  worthless  poison,  the  intoxicating  liquors,  with  words 
and  deeds,  by  not  using  liquor  themselves  and  not  treat- 
ing others  to  it ;  others  in  words,  and  still  more  power- 
fully by  their  example,  maintain  the  use  of  this  poison ; 
and  this  struggle  is  now  going  on  in  every  country,  and 
has  been  particularly  virulent  in  Russia  for  the  last 
twenty  years. 

"When  ye  did  not  know,  there  was  no  sin  on  you," 
.said  Christ.  Now  we  know  what  we  are  doing  and  whom 
we  serve,  when  we  use  liquor  and  treat  others  to  it,  and 
so,  if,  knowing  the  sin  of  the  use  of  liquor,  we  continue 
to  drink  and  treat  others  to  it,  we  have  no  justification. 

Let  no  one  say  that  it  is  impossible  not  to  drink  and 
not  to  treat  others  on  certain  occasions,  —  at  holidays, 
weddings,  and  similar  occasions,  —  that  everybody  does 
so,  that  our  fathers  and  grandfathers  did  so,  and  that, 
therefore,  we  cannot  act  differently  from  the  rest.  It  is 
not  true :  our  forefathers  and  fathers  gave  up  those  evil 
and  harmful  habits,  the  evil  of  which  became  obvious  to 
them ;  even  so  we  are  obliged  to  give  up  the  evil  which 
has  become  obvious  in  our  time.  But  that  liquor  has  in 
our  time  become  a  terrible  evil,  of  that  there  cannot  be 
any  doubt.  How,  then,  knowing  that  the  use  of  intox- 
icating liquors  is  an  evil,  which  ruins  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  men,  shall  I  treat  to  this  evil  my  friends  who 
have  called  on  me  on  a  holiday,  at  a  christening,  or  a 
wedding  ? 

It  has  not  always  been  as  it  is  now,  but  everything  has 
changed  from  worse  to  better,  and  this  change  did  not 
take  place  of  its  own  accord,  but  because  people  did  what 
their  reason  and  conscience  demanded  of  them.  Even 
now    our  reason   and    conscience   demand    in    the    most 


GOD   OR   MAMMON  i 


89 


emphatic  manner  that  we  should  stop  drinking   liquor 
and  treating  others  to  it. 

It  is  generally  considered  right  to  condemn  and  despise 
those  drunkards  who  in  saloons  and  restaurants  drink 
until  they  lose  their  reason  and  are  so  addicted  to  liquor 
that  they  cannot  contain  themselves  and  spend  everything 
they  have  for  drinks.  But  those  who  take  their  liquor 
home,  drink  daily  iu  moderate  quantities,  and  treat  their 
guests  to  it  on  proper  occasions,  are  considered  to  be  good, 
respectable  men,  who  are  not  doing  anything  wrong.  But 
it  is  these  people  that  are  more  worthy  of  condemnation 
than  the  drunkards. 

The  drunkards  became  such  only  because  the  non- 
drunkards,  without  doing  any  harm  to  themselves,  taught 
them  how  to  drink  liquor,  —  tempted  them  with  their 
own  example.  The  drunkards  would  never  become  such, 
if  they  did  not  see  honourable  people,  who  are  respected 
by  everybody,  drink  liquor  and  treat  others  to  it.  A 
young  man,  who  never  drank  any  liquor,  will  learn  the 
taste  and  the  action  of  liquor  on  a  holiday  or  at  a 
wedding  of  those  honourable  people,  who  are  no  drunk- 
ards, but  who  drink  and  treat  their  guests  on  certain 
occasions. 

And  so  he  who  drinks  liquor,  no  matter  how  moder- 
ately he  may  drink,  no  matter  on  what  especial,  generally 
accepted  occasions  he  may  treat  people  to  it,  commits  a 
great  sin.  He  tempts  those  who  are  not  to  be  tempted, 
of  whom  it  says,  "  Woe  unto  him  that  shall  offend  one  of 
these  little  ones." 

They  say :  "  Not  with  us  did  it  begin,  and  not  with  us 
will  it  end."  Yes,  it  will  end  with  us,  if  only  we  shall 
understand  that  drinking  or  not  drinking  liquor  is  not  a 
matter  of  indifference  for  each  of  us  ;  that  with  every 
bottle  that  we  buy,  with  every  glass  of  wine  that  we 
drink,  we  contribute  to  that  terrible,  devilish  affair,  from 
which  the  best  human   forces  perish;  and  that,  on  the 


90  GOD    OR   MAMMON  ? 

contrary,  by  abstaining  from  liquor  in  our  own  case  and 
putting  a  stop  to  the  senseless  habit  of  using  liquor  on 
hoHdays  and  at  weddings  and  christenings,  we  perform 
a  work  of  vast  importance,  —  the  work  of  our  soul,  the 
work  of  God.  Let  us  but  understand  this,  and  drunken- 
ness will  end  with  us. 

And  so,  no  matter  who  you,  reader,  may  be,  —  whether 
a  young  man  just  preparing  for  life,  or  a  grown  person, 
just  established  in  life,  an  adult  householder,  or  an  aging 
man,  —  when  the  time  of  accounting  for  your  acts  is  near, 
—  whether  you  be  rich  or  poor,  famous  or  unknown,  — 
whoever  you  may  be,  you  can  no  longer  remain  in  the 
middle  between  the  two  camps,  you  must  inevitably 
choose  one  thing  or  the  other,  —  to  counteract  drunken- 
ness or  contribute  to  it,  —  to  serve  God  or  mammon. 

If  you  are  a  young  man,  and  have  never  drunk,  have 
never  yet  poisoned  yourself  with  liquor,  hold  in  esteem 
your  purity  and  freedom  from  offence.  If  you  have 
already  succumbed  to  the  offence,  it  will  be  harder  for 
you  to  overcome  it.  Do  not  believe  that  liquor  increases 
cheerfulness.  Cheerfulness,  true,  good  cheerfulness,  is 
proper  in  your  years,  and  liquor  will  only  change  your 
true,  innocent  cheerfulness  into  a  drunken,  mad,  vicious 
cheerfulness.  Above  all  else,  beware  of  liquor,  because  in 
your  years  it  is  hardest  to  abstain  from  other  offences, 
while  liquor  weakens  the  power  of  reason,  which  is  so  nec- 
essary in  your  years,  and  which  counteracts  the  offences. 
Having  drunk  liquor,  you  will  do  something  that  you  did 
not  even  think  of  in  your  sober  mood.  Why  should  you 
subject  yourself  to  such  a  terrible  danger  ? 

But  if  you  are  a  grown  person,  who  have  already  made 
a  habit  of  intoxicating  liquors,  or  who  are  beginning  to 
get  used  to  them,  —  give  up  that  terrible  habit,  while 
there  is  still  time,  or  else,  before  you  look  around,  it  wiU 
take  possession  of  you,  and  you  may  become  just  like 
those  hopelessly   ruined   drunkards,   who  have    perished 


GOD    OR   MAMMON?  91 

from  liquor.  They  all  began  like  you.  If  you  should  be 
able  all  your  life  to  stick  to  a  moderate  use  of  intoxicat- 
ing liquors  and  did  not  yourself  become  a  drunkard,  you, 
by  continuing  to  drink  liquor  and  treating  others  to  it, 
may  cause  your  younger  brother,  your  wife,  your  children, 
to  become  drunkards,  if  they  have  not  the  strength  to 
stop  at  a  moderate  use  of  liquor.  Above  all  else,  you 
must  understand  that  upon  you,  as  a  person  in  the  most 
powerful  age  of  life,  a  master  or  mistress  of  the  house, 
the  guide  of  life,  rests  the  duty  of  guiding  the  lives  of 
your  family.  And  so,  if  you  know  that  liquor  does  not 
do  any  good,  causes  great  evil  to  men,  you  are  not  only 
not  obliged  slavishly  to  repeat  what  your  forefathers  did, 
—  to  use  liquor,  to  buy  it  and  treat  others  to  it,  but,  —  on 
the  contrary,  are  obliged  to  set  aside  this  custom  and  sub- 
stitute another  for  it. 

Be  not  afraid  that  the  abolition  of  the  habit  of  drinking 
wine  on  holidays  and  at  christenings  and  weddings  will 
very  much  offend  or  provoke  people.  In  many  places  peo- 
ple are  already  beginning  to  do  this,  by  substituting  savoury 
food  and  non-alcoholic  drinks  for  the  customary  liquor; 
and  it  is  only  at  first  that  people,  only  the  most  stupid  of 
them,  marvel,  for  they  soon  get  used  to  this  and  approve 
of  it. 

But  if  you  are  an  old  man,  of  an  age  when,  sooner  oi 
later,  you  shall  have  to  account  to  God  how  you  served 
Him,  and  you,  instead  of  turning  inexperienced  young 
men  away  from  hquor,  —  a  terrible  evil,  which  you  could 
not  help  but  notice  during  your  life,  —  tempt  others  with 
your  example,  by  drinking  liquor  or  treating  others  to 
it,  you  are  committing  a  great  sin. 

"  Woe  unto  the  world  because  of  offences  !  for  it  must 
needs  be  that  offences  come  ;  but  woe  to  that  man  by 
whom  the  offence  cometh." 

If  people  only  comprehended  that  in  the  matter  of  the 
use  of  liquor  there  is  now  no  middle  way,  and  whether 


92  GOD    OR   MAMMON? 

we  want  to  or  not,  we  must  choose  one  or  the  other :  to 
serve  God  or  mammon. 

"  He  that  is  not  with  me  is  against  me ;  and  he  that 
gathereth  not  with  me  scattereth  abroad." 


SHAME! 

1895 


SHAME! 


In  the  twenties  of  the  nineteenth  century  the  officers 
of  the  Sem^novski  Kegiment,  the  flower  of  the  youths  of 
that  day,  for  the  most  part  Masons  and  subsequently 
Decembrists,  decided  not  to  use  any  corporal  punishment 
in  their  regiment,  and,  in  spite  of  the  strict  demands  of 
mihtary  service  at  that  time,  the  regiment  continued  to 
be  a  model  one,  even  without  the  application  of  corporal 
punishment. 

One  of  the  commanders  of  a  company  of  the  Semen- 
ovski  Regiment,  upon  meeting  one  day  Sergy^y  Ivanovich 
Murav^v,  one  of  the  best  men  of  that,  and  indeed  of 
any,  time,  told  him  about  one  of  his  soldiers,  a  thief  and 
drunkard,  saying  that  such  a  soldier  could  not  be  brought 
to  his  senses  in  any  other  way  than  by  means  of  the  rod. 
Sergy^y  Murav^v  did  not  agree  with  him  and  offered  to 
take  the  soldier  in  his  company. 

The  transfer  was  made,  and  the  soldier  in  the  very 
first  days  stole  a  pair  of  boots  from  his  comrade,  and  with 
the  proceeds  from  the  sale  of  them  got  drunk,  and  acted 
riotously.  Sergy^y  Ivanovich  called  together  the  com- 
pany and,  calling  the  soldier  to  the  front,  said  to  him : 
"  You  know  that  in  my  company  soldiers  are  not  beaten 
or  flogged,  and  I  will  not  have  you  punished.  For  the 
boots  which  you  stole  I  will  pay  with  my  own  money, 
and  I  beg  you,  not  for  my  sake,  but  for  your  own  sake,  to 

96 


96  SHAME ! 

reflect  upon  your  life  and  to  change  it."  And,  having 
given  the  soldier  friendly  instructions,  Sergy^y  Ivanovich 
dismissed  him. 

The  soldier  again  got  drunk  and  had  a  fight.  And 
again  he  was  not  punished,  but  only  admonished :  "  You 
will  only  harm  yourself  the  more ;  but  if  you  mend  your 
ways,  you  will  be  better  off  for  it.  For  this  reason  I  ask 
you  not  to  do  such  things." 

The  soldier  was  so  surprised  at  this  new  way  of  being 
treated  that  he  changed  completely  and  became  a  model 
soldier. 

The  narrator  of  this  story,  Sergy^y  Ivanovich's  brother, 
Matvy^y  Ivanovich,  who,  like  his  brother  and  all  the  best 
men  of  the  time,  considered  corporal  punishment  to  be  a 
disgraceful  remainder  of  barbarism,  disgraceful  not  so  much 
for  the  man  punished,  as  for  the  men  punishing,  never 
could  keep  back  tears  of  emotion  and  transport,  when  he 
spoke  of  it,  and  it  was  equally  impossible  to  restrain 
tears,  when  listening  to  him. 

Thus  corporal  punishment  was  viewed  by  cultured 
Russians  seventy-five  years  ago.  Now  seventy-five  years 
have  passed,  and  in  our  time  the  grandchildren  of  these 
men  preside  in  the  capacity  of  County  Council  chiefs  in 
courts  and  calmly  discuss  the  question  whether  rods  are 
to  be  administered  or  not,  and  how  many  rods  are  to  be 
given  to  such  and  such  an  adult,  a  father  of  a  family,  often 
a  grandfather. 

But  the  leaders  among  these  grandchildren  sitting  in 
committees  and  County  Council  assembHes  hand  in  mem- 
orandums, addresses,  and  petitions,  asking,  in  the  name  of 
hygienic  and  pedagogical  purposes,  that  not  all  the  peas- 
ants, but  only  those  who  have  not  finished  a  course  in  a 
popular  school,  be  subject  to  flogging. 

An  enormous  change  has  taken  place  in  the  midst  of 
the  so-called  higher  cultured  class.  The  men  of  the 
twenties,  considering   corporal  punishment  to  be  a  dis- 


SHAME  I  97 

graceful  act  for  themselves,  found  a  way  for  abolishing  it 
in  the  army,  where  it  was  thought  to  be  indispensable ; 
but  the  men  of  our  time  calmly  apply  it,  not  to  the  sol- 
diers, but  to  all  men  of  one  of  the  classes  of  the  Kussian 
people,  and  cautiously,  diplomatically,  in  committees  and 
assembhes,  with  every  imaginable  excuse  and  circumlo- 
cution, address  and  petition  the  government  as  to  this, 
that  the  punishment  with  rods  does  not  comply  with  the 
demands  of  hygiene  and  so  must  be  limited,  or  that  it 
would  be  desirable  to  flog  only  such  peasants  as  have  not 
finished  a  course  in  the  rudiments,  or  that  the  peasants 
who  are  included  in  the  manifesto  on  the  occasion  of  the 
emperor's  marriage  may  be  exempted  from  corporal  pun- 
ishment. 

Obviously  a  terrible  change  has  taken  place  in  the  midst 
of  the  so-called  higher  Kussian  society,  and,  what  is  most 
remarkable,  this  change  has  taken  place  at  a  time  when 
in  the  very  class,  which  it  is  assumed  necessary  to  make 
submit  to  the  disgusting,  coarse,  and  stupid  torture  of 
flogging,  there  has  in  the  last  seventy-five  years,  especially 
in  the  last  thirty-five  years,  since  the  liberation,  taken 
place  just  such  a  vast  change,  only  in  the  opposite 
direction. 

While  the  higher,  ruling  classes  have  coarsened  and 
morally  fallen  to  such  an  extent  that  they  have  legalized 
flogging  and  calmly  discuss  the  same,  there  has  in  the 
peasant  class  taken  place  such  an  uplifting  of  the  mental 
and  moral  level  that  the  application  of  corporal  punish- 
ment to  this  class  appears  to  the  men  of  this  class  not 
only  as  a  physical,  but  also  as  a  moral  torture. 

I  have  heard  and  read  of  cases  of  suicide  among  peas- 
ants condemned  to  rods,  and  I  cannot  refuse  to  believe 
this,  because  I  saw  myself  an  ordinary  young  peasant,  at 
the  mere  mention  in  the  township  court  of  the  possibility 
of  administering  corporal  punishment  to  him,  grow  as  pale 
as  a  sheet  and  lose  his  voice ;  I  saw  also  another  peasant, 


98  SHAME ! 

of  about  forty  years  of  age,  who  was  condemned  to  cor- 
poral punishment,  burst  out  weeping,  when,  in  reply  to 
my  question  whether  the  decree  of  the  court  was  carried 
out,  he  had  to  answer  that  it  was. 

I  know  also  of  a  case  where  an  acquaintance  of  mine,  a 
respectable  middle-aged  peasant,  who  was  condemned  to 
be  flogged  for  having,  as  usual,  called  the  starosta  names, 
without  paying  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  starosta  wore 
the  insignia,  was  taken  to  the  township  office,  and  from 
there  to  the  shed  where  the  punishment  is  administered. 
The  watchman  came  with  the  rods,  and  the  peasant  was 
told  to  take  off  his  clothes. 

"  Parm^n  Ermilych,  I  have  a  married  son,"  said  the 
peasant,  turning  to  the  township  elder,  and  shaking  with 
his  whole  body.  "  Can't  this  be  omitted  ?  It  is  a 
sin." 

"  The  government,  Petrovich,  —  I  should  gladly,  — 
what  is  to  be  done  ? "  replied  the  embarrassed  elder. 

Petrovich  took  off  his  clothes  and  lay  down. 

"  Christ  has  suffered  and  told  us  to  suffer,"  he  said. 

As  the  scribe  who  was  present  told  me,  everybody's 
arms  trembled,  and  nobody  dared  to  look  into  his 'neigh- 
bour's eyes,  feeling  that  they  were  doing  something  ter- 
rible. And  these  people  it  is  assumed  indispensable  and 
apparently  useful  for  some  one  to  flog  like  beasts, — 
indeed,  even  animals  are  not  allowed  to  be  tortured. 

For  the  good  of  our  Christian  and  enlightened  state  it 
is  indispensable  to  subject  to  a  most  insipid,  indecent,  and 
offensive  punishment,  not  all  the  members  of  this  Chris- 
tian enlightened  state,  but  only  one  of  its  classes,  the  most 
industrious,  useful,  moral,  and  numerous. 

The  highest  authorities  of  an  enormous  Christian  state 
have  not  been  able  nineteen  centuries  after  Christ  to 
invent  something  more  useful,  clever,  and  moral  for  the 
counteraction  of  violation  of  laws  than  that  the  people 
who  have  violated  the  laws,  grown  men,  and  sometimes 


SHAME !  99 

old  men,  be  undressed,  thro\vn  on  the  floor,  and  beaten 
with  rods  on  their  backsides.^ 

And  the  men  of  our  time,  who  consider  themselves  to 
be  leaders,  the  grandsons  of  the  men  who  seventy-five 
years  ago  destroyed  capital  punishment,  now  most  humbly 
and  quite  seriously  ask  the  minister  or  some  one  else  not 
to  subject  to  flogging  the  adult  Eussians  so  much,  because 
the  doctors  find  this  unhealthy,  not  to  subject  to  flogging 
those  who  have  finished  a  course,  and  to  free  from  flog- 
ging those  who  should  be  flogged  immediately  after  the 
emperor's  marriage.  But  the  wise  government  keeps  pro- 
found silence  in  response  to  such  frivolous  requests  or 
even  prohibits  them. 

But  is  it  possible  to  ask  about  these  things  ?  Can 
there  be  a  question  about  them  ?  There  are  certain  acts, 
whether  they  be  committed  by  private  individuals,  or  by 
governments,  which  cannot  be  discussed  coolly,  condemn- 
ing the  commission  of  these  acts  only  under  certain  condi- 
tions. And  the  flogging  of  adults  from  one  of  the  classes 
of  the  Russian  nation  in  our  time,  amidst  our  meek  and 
enlightened  Christian  people,  belongs  to  this  class  of  acts. 
It  is  not  right  for  the  abatement  of  the  transgression  of 
all  divine  and  human  laws  diplomatically  to  approach  the 
government  on  the  score  of  hygiene,  school  education,  or 
the  manifesto.  Such  things  must  either  not  be  mentioned 
at  all,  or  must  be  talked  about  as  to  their  essence  and 
always  with  contempt  and  horror.  To  ask  that  only  such 
peasants  as  have  finished  the  rudiments  be  not  switched 
over  their  bare  hips,  is  the  same  as  if,  where  the  punish- 
ment of  an  adulterous  woman  was  that  she  be  taken  naked 
through  the  city,  one  should  ask  that  the  punishment  be  ap- 
plied only  to  those  women  who  do  not  know  how  to  knit 
stockings,  or  something  hke  that. 

^  Why  this  particular  stupid,  savage  method  of  causing  pain,  and 
no  other  ?  Why  not  stick  pins  into  the  shoulder  or  some  other  part 
of  the  body,  compress  the  hands  or  feet  in  a  vise,  or  something  like 
that?  —  Author's  Note. 


100  SHAME ! 

About  such  things  people  cannot  "  ask  most  humbly  " 
and  "  prostrate  themselves  before  one's  feet,"  and  so  forth  ; 
such  things  can  and  must  be  only  arraigned.  Such  things 
must  be  arraigned,  because  these  things,  when  the  aspect 
of  legahty  is  given  to  them,  only  disgrace  us  all,  who 
live  in  the  state  where  such  acts  are  committed.  Indeed, 
if  the  flogging  of  the  peasants  is  a  law,  this  law  is  made 
for  me  as  much  as  for  anybody,  to  secure  my  peace  and 
well-being,  but  this  cannot  be  admitted. 

I  do  not  want  and  am  not  able  to  recognize  a  law 
which  violates  all  the  divine  and  human  laws,  and  I  can- 
not imagine  myself  of  one  accord  with  those  who  write 
and  confirm  such  crimes  under  the  form  of  law. 

If  we  have  to  speak  at  all  of  this  monstrousness,  we 
can  say  only  this,  that  there  can  be  no  such  law,  that  no 
ukases.  Mirrors  of  Law,  signatures,  or  command  of  his 
Majesty  can  make  a  law  of  a  crime,  and  that,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  vesting  of  such  a  crime  (as  this,  that  the  adults 
of  but  one,  the  best  class,  may  at  the  will  of  another,  a 
worse  class,  —  that  of  the  gentry  and  officials,  —  be  sub- 
jected to  an  indecent,  savage,  disgusting  punishment) 
with  the  form  of  law  proves  better  than  anything  else  that 
where  such  an  imaginary  legalization  of  a  crime  is  pos- 
sible no  laws  exist,  but  only  savage  arbitrariness  of  rude 
power. 

If  we  must  speak  at  all  of  the  corporal  punishment 
which  is  administered  to  but  one,  the  peasant  class,  we 
must  not  defend  the  rights  of  the  County  Council  assembly 
or  complain  to  the  minister  of  the  governor  who  protested 
against  the  solicitations  about  stopping  the  flogging  of 
those  who  know  how  to  read,  or  complain  to  the  senate 
of  the  minister,  or  complain  still  higher  up  of  the  senate, 
as  was  proposed  by  the  Tambov  County  Council,  but 
must  never  stop  crying  and  shouting  that  the  application 
of  this  savage  punishment,  which  is  no  longer  used  in  the 
case  of  children,  to  one,  the  best  class  of  Russians,  is  a 


SHAME  !  101 

disgrace  for  all  those  who  take  part  in  it  directly  or 
indirectly. 

Petrovich,  who  lay  down  to  receive  the  rods,  making 
the  sign  of  the  cross  and  saying, "  Christ  suffered  and  told 
us  to  suffer,"  forgave  his  tormentors  and  after  the  rods 
remained  what  he  had  been.  The  torture  accomplished 
upon  him  could  have  had  but  one  result,  that  of  making 
him  despise  the  power  which  can  prescribe  such  punish- 
ments. But  on  many  young  men  not  only  the  punishment 
itself,  but  frequently  the  mere  acknowledgment  that  it  is 
possible,  has  the  effect  of  lowering  their  moral  sense  and 
provoking  either  desperation  or  brutality.  But  this  is  not 
yet  the  chief  harm  of  this  monstrousness.  The  chief 
harm  consists  in  the  mental  condition  of  those  men  who 
establish,  permit,  and  prescribe  this  illegality,  those  men 
who  use  it  as  a  threat,  and  all  those  who  live  in  the  con- 
viction that  such  a  violation  of  all  justice  and  humanity 
is  necessary  for  a  good,  regular  life.  What  a  terrible 
maiming  there  must  be  in  the  brains  and  hearts  of  such 
men,  frequently  young  men,  who,  as  I  myself  have  heard, 
assert  with  an  aspect  of  profound  wisdom  that  it  is  impos- 
sible not  to  flog  the  peasant,  and  that  it  is  better  for  the 
peasant  that  he  should  be  flogged. 

It  is  these  people  who  are  to  be  pitied  most  for  the 
bestiality  into  which  they  have  fallen  and  in  which  they 
abide. 

Therefore  the  liberation  of  the  Russian  people  from  the 
corrupting  influence  of  the  legalized  crime  is  in  every  way 
an  affair  of  vast  importance.  This  liberation  will  not  take 
place  when  those  who  have  finished  a  course,  or  any  other 
peasants,  or  even  all  the  peasants,  with  the  exception  of 
one  single  peasant,  shall  be  exempted  from  corporal  pun- 
ishment, but  only  when  the  ruling  classes  will  recognize 
their  sin  and  shall  meekly  submit  to  it. 

December  14,  1895. 


PREFACE  TO  CARPENTER'S 
ARTICLE,  ^'MODERN  SCI- 
ENCE" 

1898 


PREFACE  TO  CARrENTER'S 
ARTICLE,  ^'MODERN  SCI- 
ENCE" 


Havrl  Xiytfi  \6yos  (ffot  avriKeirai. 

I  THINK  that  the  following  article  by  Carpenter  on 
modern  science  can  be  of  especial  use  in  our  Eussian 
society,  in  which  more  than  in  any  other  European  society 
there  exists  the  wide-spread  and  deep-rooted  superstition 
according  to  which  it  is  thought  that  for  the  good  of 
humanity  there  is  no  need  whatever  of  the  diffusion 
of  religious  and  moral  knowledge,  but  only  of  the  study 
of  tlie  experimental  sciences,  and  that  the  knowledge  of 
these  sciences  satisfies  all  the  spiritual  demands  of  hu- 
manity. 

It  can  easily  be  seen  what  evil  influence  (just  like  that 
of  the  religious  superstitions)  must  be  exerted  upon  the 
moral  life  of  men  by  this  gross  superstition.  And  so  the 
diffusion  of  the  ideas  of  the  writers  who  assume  a  critical 
attitude  toward  experimental  science  and  its  method  is 
particularly  desirable  for  our  society. 

Carpenter  proves  that  neither  astronomy,  nor  physics, 
nor  chemistry,  nor  biology,  nor  sociology  gives  us  a  real 
knowledge  of  reality,  that  all  the  laws  discovered  by  these 
sciences  are  only  generahzations,  which  have  an  approxi- 
mate significance  as  laws,  —  and  that,  too,  only  if  we 
neglect  or  ignore  the  other  conditions,  —  and  that  even 

105 


106        carpenter's  "modern  science" 

these  laws  appear  to  us  as  laws  only  because  we  discover 
them  in  a  sphere  which  is  so  remote  from  us  in  time  and 
space  that  we  cannot  see  the  discrepancy  between  these 
laws  and  reality. 

Besides,  Carpenter  points  out  to  us  the  fact  that  the 
method  of  science,  which  consists  in  the  explanation  of 
phenomena  that  are  near  and  important  to  us  by  more 
remote  phenomena,  which  are  a  matter  of  indiflerence  to 
us,  is  a  false  method,  which  can  never  lead  us  to  the 
desired  results. 

"  Each  science,"  he  says,  "  has  been  reduced  to  its 
lowest  terms.  Ethics  has  been  made  a  question  of  utility 
and  inherited  experience.  Pohtical  economy  has  been 
exhausted  of  all  conceptions  of  justice  between  man  and 
man,  of  charity,  affection,  and  the  instinct  of  solidarity ; 
and  has  been  founded  on  its  lowest  discoverable  factor, 
namely,  self-interest.  Biology  has  been  denuded  of  the 
force  of  personality  in  plants,  animals,  and  men  ;  the  '  self ' 
here  has  been  set  aside,  and  the  attempt  made  to  reduce 
the  science  to  a  question  of  chemical  and  cellular  affini- 
ties, protoplasm,  and  the  laws  of  osmose.  Chemical 
affinities,  again,  and  all  the  wonderful  phenomena  of 
physics  are  reduced  to  a  flight  of  atoms ;  and  the  flight 
of  atoms  (and  of  astronomic  orbs  as  well)  is  reduced  to 
the  laws  of  dynamics." 

It  is  assumed  that  the  reduction  of  the  questions  of 
a  higher  order  to  those  of  a  lower  order  will  resolve  the 
questions  of  the  higher  order.  But  this  elucidation  is 
never  brought  about,  and  what  takes  place  is  this,  that, 
descending  in  our  investigations  lower  and  lower,  from 
most  essential  questions  to  less  essential  ones,  science 
finally  arrives  at  a  sphere  which  is  absolutely  foreign 
to  man  and  is  only  contiguous  to  him,  and  upon  this 
sphere  it  arrests  its  attention,  leaving  all  the  most  impor- 
tant questions  of  man  without  any  solution  whatever. 

What  takes  place  is  very  much  what  a  man  would  do, 


carpenter's    "  MODERN    SCIENCE  "  107 

who,  wishing  to  understand  the  significance  of  an  object 
before  him,  instead  of  getting  nearer  to  it  and  viewing  and 
feeling  it  from  all  sides,  should  go  farther  and  farther 
away  from  the  object,  and  finally  should  get  away  to  such 
a  distance  that  all  the  peculiarities  of  colour  and  all 
the  unevenuess  of  relief  are  destroyed  and  nothing  but  the 
outhnes,  which  distinguish  it  from  the  horizon,  are  left, 
and  here  should  begin  to  describe  this  object  in  detail,  on 
the  assumption  that  now  he  had  a  very  clear  conception 
about  it,  and  that  this  concept,  formed  at  such  a  distance, 
would  contribute  to  the  complete  comprehension  of  the 
object.  It  is  this  self-deception  that  is  partly  dispelled 
by  Carpenter's  criticism,  which  shows,  in  the  first  place, 
that  the  knowledge  which  science  gives  us  in  the  field  of 
the  natural  sciences  is  only  convenient  methods  of  gener- 
alization, but  by  no  means  the  representation  of  reality, 
and,  in  the  second  place,  that  that  method  of  science,  by 
which  the  phenomena  of  the  higher  order  are  reduced  to 
phenomena  of  the  lower  order,  will  never  bring  us  to  the 
explanation  of  the  phenomena  of  the  higher  order. 

But  even  without  anticipating  the  question  as  to 
whether  experimental  science  will  with  its  method  ever 
bring  us  to  the  solution  of  the  problems  of  life  most 
important  for  humanity,  the  activity  itself  of  experimental 
science  in  relation  to  the  eternal  and  most  legitimate 
demands  of  humanity  startles  us  by  its  incorrectness. 

Men  have  to  live.  To  hve,  they  must  know  how  to 
live.  And  all  men  —  whether  ill  or  well  —  have  always 
found  this  out,  and,  in  conformity  with  this  knowledge, 
have  lived  and  moved  on,  and  this  knowledge  of  how 
men  should  hve  has  since  the  days  of  Solomon,  Moses, 
Confucius,  always  been  regarded  as  science,  as  the  science 
of  the  sciences.  It  is  only  in  our  day  that  the  science  as 
to  how  to  live  is  not  at  all  a  science,  and  that  only  experi- 
mental science,  which  begins  with  mathematics  and  ends 
with  sociology,  is  the  real  science. 


108  CARPENTEli's    "  MODERN    SCIENCE  " 

From  this  results  a  strauge  misunderstanding. 

A  simple,  clever  working  man,  employing  the  ancient 
reasoning,  which  at  that  is  common  sense,  assumes  that  if 
there  are  people  who  study  all  their  hves,  and  who,  in 
consideration  of  their  being  fed  and  supported  by  him,  do 
his  thinking  for  him,  these  men  are  no  doubt  busy  study- 
ing what  people  need,  and  he  expects  science  to  solve  for 
him  those  questions  on  which  depend  his  good  and  the 
good  of  all  men.  He  waits  for  science  to  teach  him  how 
to  Hve,  how  to  treat  the  members  of  his  family,  his  neigh- 
bours, people  of  other  nations,  how  to  struggle  with  his 
passions,  what  to  believe  in  and  what  not  to  believe  in, 
and  many  other  things.  And  what  does  science  say 
to  all  these  questions  of  his  ? 

It  announces  to  him  triumphantly  how  many  millions 
of  miles  it  is  from  the  sun  to  the  earth,  with  what  rapidity 
light  passes  through  space,  how  many  millions  of  vibra- 
tions the  ether  makes  for  light  and  how  many  vibrations 
air  makes  for  sound  ;  it  tells  him  about  the  chemical  com- 
position of  the  Milky  Way,  about  the  new  element,  helium, 
about  microcosms  and  their  evacuations,  about  those  points 
in  the  arm  where  electricity  is  centred,  about  X-rays,  and 
such  things. 

"  But  I  do  not  need  any  of  these  things,"  says  the  simple, 
sensible  man.     "  I  want  to  know  how  to  live." 

"  What  do  I  care  what  you  want  to  know  ? "  science 
replies  to  this.  "  What  you  ask  about  belongs  to  sociology. 
But  before  answering  sociological  questions,  we  have  to 
answer  zoological,  botanical,  physiological,  in  general 
biological,  questions,  but  to  answer  these  questions  we 
must  first  solve  physical,  then  chemical  questions,  and 
we  have  to  come  to  an  agreement  as  to  what  is  the  form 
of  the  infinitely  small  atoms,  and  in  what  manner  the 
imponderable  and  inelastic  ether  transmits  motion." 

And  people,  especially  those  who  sit  on  other  men's 
Lacks,  and  who,  therefore,  find  it  convenient  to  wait,  are 


carpenter's    "  MODERN    SCIENCE  "  109 

satisfied  with  such  answers,  and  sit  "  flapping  their  eyes  "  in 
expectation  of  what  is  promised ;  but  a  simple,  sensible 
working  man,  on  whose  back  are  sitting  those  men  who 
busy  themselves  with  science,  the  whole  vast  mass  of 
men,  all  humanity,  cannot  be  satisfied  with  such  answers, 
and  naturally  asks  in  perplexity,  "  When  shall  that  be  ?  We 
have  no  time  to  wait.  You  yourselves  say  that  you  will 
find  it  out  in  a  few  generations.  But  we  hve  now :  to-day 
we  are  alive,  and  to-morrow  we  shall  die,  and  so  we  must 
know  how  to  live  the  life  we  are  now  in.     Teach  us." 

"  Foolish,  ignorant  man,"  science  answers  him.  "  He 
does  not  understand  that  science  does  not  serve  utihty, 
but  science  studies  what  is  subject  to  investigation,  and 
cannot  choose  its  subjects  for  study.  Science  studies 
everything.     Such  is  the  property  of  science." 

And  the  men  of  science  are  actually  convinced  that 
the  property  of  busying  oneself  with  trifles,  neglecting 
that  which  is  more  essential  and  important,  is  not  their 
property,  but  the  property  of  science ;  but  the  simple, 
sensible  man  begins  to  suspect  that  this  property  does 
not  belong  to  science,  but  to  men  who  are  inclined  to  busy 
themselves  with  trifles,  ascribing  an  important  significance 
to  these  trifles. 

"  Science  studies  everything"  say  the  men  of  science. 
But  everything  is  too  much  ;  everything  is  the  infinite 
number  of  objects,  —  it  is  impossible  to  study  everything 
at  once.  As  a  lantern  cannot  at  once  illumine  every- 
thing, but  illumines  only  the  one  spot  toward  which  it  is 
directed,  or  that  direction  in  which  the  bearer  carries 
it,  so  also  science  cannot  study  everything,  but  inevitably 
studies  only  that  toward  which  its  attention  is  directed. 
And  as  a  lantern  illumines  most  powerfully  the  nearest 
spot  to  it  and  less  and  less  well  the  objects  more  and 
more  removed  from  it,  and  does  not  at  all  illumine  those 
to  which  the  Ught  does  not  reach,  even  so  human  science, 
no  matter  what  it  may  be,  has  always  investigated  in  the 


110        carpenter's  "modern  science 


»> 


most  thorough  manner  what  to  the  investigators  seems 
to  be  most  important,  less  thoroughly  what  represents  it- 
self to  them  as  less  important,  and  entirely  neglects  the 
remaining  infinite  number  of  objects.  But  what  has 
determined  for  men  what  is  very  important,  what  less 
important,  and  what  is  not  important  at  all,  is  the  common 
understanding,  by  the  men  who  have  busied  themselves 
with  science,  as  to  what  constitutes  the  meaning  and  aim 
of  life,  that  is,  rehgion. 

But  the  present  men  of  science,  recognizing  no  religion, 
and  so  having  no  grounds  on  which  to  pick  out,  accord- 
ing to  their  degree  of  importance,  the  subjects  of  study, 
and  to  separate  them  from  less  important  subjects,  and 
finally  from  that  infinite  number  of  subjects  whicb,  on 
account  of  the  limitation  of  the  human  mind  and  the 
infinitude  of  these  subjects,  will  always  remain  unstudied, 
have  formed  for  themselves  a  theory,  — "  science  for 
science's  sake,"  —  according  to  which  science  does  not 
study  what  men  need,  but  everything. 

Indeed,  experimental  science  studies  everything,  but  not 
in  the  sense  of  the  aggregate  of  all  subjects,  but  in  the 
sense  of  disorder,  a  chaos  in  the  distribution  of  the  subjects 
studied ;  that  is,  science  does  not  study  preferably  what  is 
most  needed  by  men,  and  less  so  what  is  needed  less,  and 
not  at  all  what  is  entirely  useless,  but  it  studies  every- 
thing, anything.  Though  there  exist  Comte's  classification 
of  the  sciences  and  other  classifications,  these  classifica- 
tions do  not  guide  them  in  the  selection  of  subjects  for 
study  ;  what  directs  the  selection  is  the  human  weak- 
nesses to  which  the  men  of  science  are  as  prone  as  any- 
body else.  Thus  in  reality  the  men  of  experimental 
science  do  not  study  everything,  as  they  imagine  and 
affirm,  but  what  is  most  advantageously  and  most  easily 
studied.  What  is  most  advantageously  studied  is,  what 
can  contribute  to  the  welfare  of  those  higher  classes  to 
which  the  men  who  busy  themselves  with  the  sciences 


carpenter's  "modern  science"        111 

belong  ;  and  it  is  easier  to  study  everything  which  does  not 
hve.  And  so  do  the  men  of  experimental  science  do : 
they  study  books,  monuments,  dead  bodies. 

This  study  they  consider  to  be  true  "  science."  Thus 
what  in  our  time  passes  for  true  "  science,"  the  only 
"  science  "  (as  the  only  book  worthy  of  that  name  was 
called  the  "  Bible  "),  is  not  the  consideration  and  investiga- 
tion of  how  to  make  the  lives  of  men  better  and  happier, 
but  the  collection  and  copying  from  many  books  into  one 
of  what  has  before  been  written  by  people  about  a  certain 
subject,  or  the  pouring  of  a  hquid  from  one  glass  into 
another,  the  artificial  splitting  of  microscopic  apparatus,  the 
cultivation  of  bacteria,  the  cutting  up  of  frogs  and  dogs, 
the  investigation  of  X-rays,  the  theory  of  numbers,  the 
chemical  composition  of  the  stars. 

But  all  those  sciences  which  have  for  their  aim  the 
making  human  life  better  and  happier,  —  the  rehgious, 
moral,  social  sciences,  —  are  not  considered  by  the  ruling 
science  to  be  sciences,  and  are  left  to  the  theologians, 
philosophers,  jurists,  historians,  political  economists,  who, 
under  the  guise  of  scientific  investigations,  are  interested 
only  in  pro\'ing  that  the  existing  order  of  hfe,  the  advan- 
tages of  which  they  enjoy,  is  precisely  the  one  that  ought 
to  exist,  and  so  ought  not  to  be  changed,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  ought  to  be  supported  in  every  possible  way. 

To  say  nothing  of  theology  and  jurisprudence,  the 
most  advanced  of  this  kind  of  sciences,  political  economy, 
is  most  striking  in  this  respect.  The  most  widely  dis- 
seminated political  economy  (that  of  Marx),  in  recognizing 
the  existing  order  of  life  to  be  such  as  it  ought  to  be,  not 
only  does  not  demand  of  men  any  change  in  this  order, 
that  is,  does  not  show  them  how  they  ought  to  live  in 
order  that  their  situation  be  improved,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, demands  the  intensification  of  the  cruelty  of  the 
existing  order,  in  order  that  there  may  be  a  realization  of 
those  more  than   doubtful   predictions  as  to  what  must 


112        caepenter's  "modern  science" 

happen,  if  the  people  continue  to  live  as  badly  as  they  are 
living  now.  And,  as  always  happens,  the  lower  a  human 
activity  descends,  the  more  it  departs  from  what  it  ought 
to  be,  the  more  does  its  self-confidence  grow.  The  same 
has  happened  with  science  in  our  time.  True  science  is 
never  recognized  by  the  contemporaries,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  for  the  most  part  persecuted.  Nor  can  it  be 
otherwise.  True  science  points  out  to  men  their  errors, 
and  new,  untried  paths  of  life.  Either  is  disagreeable  to 
the  ruling  part  of  society.  But  the  present  science  not 
only  does  not  contradict  the  tastes  and  demands  of  the 
ruling  part  of  society,  but  is  in  full  agreement  with 
them :  it  satisfies  idle  curiosity,  makes  people  marvel,  and 
promises  them  an  increase  of  enjoyments.  And  so, 
while  everything  truly  great  is  quiet,  modest,  impercep- 
tible, the  science  of  our  time  knows  no  limits  to  its  self- 
laudation. 

"  All  the  former  methods  were  faulty,  and  so  every- 
thing which  formerly  used  to  be  regarded  as  science  is  a 
deception,  error,  trifles ;  our  method  is  the  only  true 
method,  and  our  science  is  the  only  true  science.  The 
progress  of  our  science  is  such  that  thousands  of  years 
have  not  done  what  we  have  accomplished  in  the  last 
hundred  years.  Proceeding  on  the  same  path,  our  science 
will  in  the  future  solve  all  questions  and  will  make  all 
humanity  happy.  Our  science  is  the  most  important  ac- 
tivity in  the  world,  and  we,  the  men  of  science,  are  the 
most  important  and  necessary  men  in  the  world." 

Thus  think  and  speak  the  men  of  science  of  our  time 
and  the  crowd  is  with  them,  whereas  at  no  time  and  with 
no  nation  did  science,  all  science  in  all  its  significance, 
stand  on  such  a  low  level  as  at  present.  One  part  of  it,  the 
one  which  ought  to  study  that  which  makes  human  life  good 
and  happy,  is  busy  justifying  the  present  bad  order  of 
life,  while  the  other  busies  itself  with  the  solution  of 
questions  of  idle  curiosity. 


carpenter's    ''MODERN   SCIENCE"  113 

"  What  ?  Of  idle  ciiriosity  ? "  I  hear  voices,  which 
are  indignant  at  such  blasphemy.  "  And  what  about  elec- 
tricity, and  telephones,  and  all  the  perfections  of  mechan- 
ics ?  To  say  nothing  of  their  scientific  significance,  see 
what  practical  results  they  have  produced.  Man  has 
overcome  Nature,  has  subdued  her  forces  to  himself,  and 
so  forth." 

"  But  all  the  practical  results  of  the  .victory  over  Nature 
have  so  far  —  and  for  a  long  time  —  been  applied  to  fac- 
tories, which  are  injurious  to  the  masses,  to  engines  of 
destruction,  to  the  increase  of  luxury  and  debauchery," 
replies  a  simple,  sensible  man,  "  and  so  the  victory  of  man 
over  Nature  has  not  only  not  increased  men's  good,  but 
has,  on  the  contrary,  made  their  condition  worse." 

If  the  structure  of  society  is  bad,  as  ours  is,  where  a 
small  number  of  men  rule  over  the  majority  and  oppress 
them,  every  victory  over  Nature  will  inevitably  serve  only 
for  the  increase  of  this  power  and  this  oppression.  And 
so  it  is. 

In  connection  with  a  science  which  does  not  take  its 
object  to  be  the  study  of  how  men  should  live,  but  the 
study  of  what  is,  and  so  is  preeminently  busy  investigat- 
ing dead  bodies  and  leaves  the  structure  of  human  society 
such  as  it  is,  no  improvements,  no  victories  over  Nature 
can  improve  the  condition  of  men. 

"  And  medicine  ?  Do  you  forget  the  beneficent  advance- 
ment of  medicine  ?  And  the  inoculation  of  bacteria  ? 
And  the  modern  operations  ? "  exclaim,  as  usual,  the 
defenders  of  the  science  of  the  last  resort,  adducing  the 
advancement  of  medicine  in  proof  of  the  fruitfulness  of 
all  science. 

"We  can  by  means  of  inoculation  prevent  diseases, 
and  cure,  we  can  perform  painless  operations,  —  cut  up 
the  internal  organs,  clean  them,  —  we  can  straighten 
hunchbacks,"  generally  say  the  defenders  of  science,  for 
some  reason  assuming  that  one  child  cured  of  diphtheria 


114        carpenter's  "modern  science 


»» 


among  all  those  children,  who  annually  die  in  Eussia  to 
the  number  of  fifty  per  cent.,  and  in  asylums  to  the  num- 
ber of  eighty  per  cent.,  ought  to  convince  people  of  the 
beneficence  of  science  in  general. 

The  structure  of  our  life  is  such  that  not  only  children, 
but  even  the  majority  of  adults,  through  bad  food,  injuri- 
ous labour  above  their  strength,  bad  housing,  insufficient 
clothing,  and  want,  .do  not  Hve  one-half  of  the  years  which 
they  ought  to  live ;  the  structure  of  life  is  such  that  infan- 
tile diseases,  consumption,  syphilis,  alcoholism  are  taking 
possession  of  an  ever  greater  number  of  men,  that  a  great 
portion  of  men's  labours  is  taken  from  them  for  prepara- 
tions for  war,  that  every  ten  or  twenty  years  millions  of 
men  are  destroyed  by  war,  ■ —  and  all  this  is  due  to  the 
fact  that  science,  instead  of  spreading  among  men  correct 
religious,  moral,  and  social  ideas,  in  consequence  of  which 
all  these  calamities  may  naturally  be  destroyed,  busies 
itself,  on  the  one  hand,  with  the  justification  of  the  exist- 
ing order,  and,  on  the  other,  with  toys ;  and  in  proof  of 
the  fruitfulness  of  science  we  are  told  that  it  cures  one- 
thousandth  part  of  those  diseased  who  fall  sick  for  the 
very  reason  that  science  does  not  perform  its  proper  work. 

If  only  a  small  portion  of  those  efforts,  of  that  atten- 
tion, and  of  that  labour,  which  science  wastes  on  those 
trifles  with  which  it  busies  itself,  were  directed  by  it  upon 
the  establishment  among  men  of  regular  religious,  moral, 
social,  even  hygienic  ideas,  there  would  not  be  even  one- 
hundredth  part  of  those  diphtherias,  diseases  of  the  w^omb, 
hunchbacks,  on  the  cure  of  which  science  prides  itself  so 
much,  effecting  these  cures  in  its  clinics,  the  luxury  of 
whose  establishment  cannot  be  diffused  among  all  men. 

It  is  the  same  as  though  men,  who  had  ploughed  a 
field  badly  and  sowed  bad  seed  in  it,  should  walk  through 
this  field  and  cure  the  broken  stalks,  which  grew  up 
among  the  sickly  ears,  all  the  time  treading  down  all  the 
other  stalks,  and  should  adduce  this  their  art  of  curing 


carpenter's    "  MODERN    SCIENCE  "  115 

the  sickly  stalks  as  a  proof  of  their  knowledge  of  agricul- 
ture. 

For  our  science  to  become  science  and  to  be  truly  use- 
ful, it  must  first  of  all  renounce  its  experimental  method, 
according  to  which  it  regards  as  its  business  only  the 
study  of  what  is,  and  should  return  to  the  one  rational 
and  fruitful  comprehension  of  science,  according  to  which 
the  object  of  its  study  is,  how  men  should  live.  In  this 
does  the  purpose  and  meaning  of  science  consist ;  but  the 
study  of  what  is  can  be  the  object  of  science  only  to 
the  extent  to  which  this  study  contributes  to  the  compre- 
hension of  how  men  should  live. 

It  is  this  recognition  of  the  insufficiency  of  experi- 
mental science  and  of  the  necessity  of  acquiring  a  different 
method  that  is  pointed  out  in  the  present  article  by 
Carpenter. 


CARTHAGO   DELENDA   EST 

1898 


CARTHAGO   DELENDA  EST 


La  Vita  Internazionale  and  LEumanite,  Nouvelle  sent 
me  the  following  letter : 

"  Monsieur  :  —  Dans  le  hut  d'etre  kittle  an  developpe- 
ment  des  idccs  humanitaires  de  la  civilisation  La  Vita 
Internazionale  {Milan),  avec  I'appui  de  L'Humanit^ 
Nouvelle  (Paris  et  Briixelles),  a  cru  devoir  s'interesser  au 
difficile  proUeme  qui  dernierement  s'est  montre  dans  toute 
sa  gravite  et  son  importance  h  cause  de  la  delicate  question 
pour  laquelle  la  France  et  le  monde  entier  se  sont  passiones 
si  vivement :  nous  voulons  parler  du  proUenie  de  la  guerre 
et  du  militarisme.  A  cette  fin,  nous  prions  tons  ceux  qui 
en  Europe  dans  la  politique,  les  sciences,  les  arts,  dans  le 
mouvement  ouvrier,  parmi  les  militaires  memes  occupent 
la  place  la  plus  cminente,  de  contribuer  h  cette  oeuvre 
hautement  civilisatrice  en  nous  envoyant  les  rcponses  au 
questionnaire  suivant : 

"  1.  La  guerre  parmi  les  nations  civilisees  est-elle  encore 
voulue  par  I'histoire,  par  le  droit,  j^ar  le  progres  ? 

"  2.  Quels  sont  les  effets  intellectuels,  moraux,  physiques, 
economiqties,  politiques,  du  militarisme  ? 

"  3.  Quelles  sont  les  solutions  qu'il  convient  de  donner,  dans 
Vinteret  de  Vavenir  de  la  civilisation  mondiale,  aux  graves 
prohlemes  de  la  guerre  et  du  militarisme  ? 

"  Jf.  Quels  sont  les  moyens  conduisant  le  plus  rapidement 
possible  h  ces  solutions  ?  " 

119 


120         CARTHAGO  DELENDA  EST 

I  cannot  conceal  that  feeling  of  disgust,  indignation, 
and  even  despair,  which  this  letter  provoked  in  me.  Peo- 
ple of  our  Christian  world,  enlightened,  clever,  good  men, 
who  profess  the  law  of  love  and  of  brotherhood,  who 
regard  murder  as  a  terrible  crime,  who,  with  few  excep- 
tions, are  unable  to  kill  an  animal,  all  these  people  sud- 
denly, under  certain  conditions,  when  these  crimes  are 
called  war,  not  only  recognize  destruction,  pillage,  and  the 
murder  of  men  to  be  right  and  lawful,  but  themselves 
contribute  to  this  pillage  and  these  murders,  prepare 
themselves  for  them,  take  part  in  them,  and  pride  them- 
selves on  them.  With  this  the  same  phenomenon  is 
always  repeated,  namely  this,  that  a  vast  majority  of  men, 
all  the  working  people,  those  who  do  the  pillaging  and 
the  murdering  and  bear  the  whole  weight  of  this  busi- 
ness, do  not  plan,  or  prepare,  or  wish  these  murders,  and 
take  part  in  them  against  their  will,  only  because  they 
are  placed  in  such  a  position  and  are  so  minded  that  it 
seems  to  them,  to  each  of  them  individually,  that  they  will 
fare  worse,  if  they  refuse  to  take  part  in  these  robberies  and 
murders  and  in  the  preparations  for  them  ;  but  it  is  only  a 
very  insignificant  minority,  which  lives  in  luxury  and  idle- 
ness upon  the  labours  of  the  working  people,  that  plans 
and  prepares  those  robberies  and  murders,  and  compels  the 
working  people  to  commit  them.  This  deception  has  been 
taking  place  for  a  long  time,  but  of  late  the  impudence 
of  the  deceivers  has  reached  the  farthest  limit :  a  large 
portion  of  the  products  of  labour  are  taken  away  from 
the  working  people  and  are  used  for  the  preparations  for 
these  robberies  and  murders.  In  all  the  constitutional 
governments  of  Europe,  the  labourers  themselves,  all 
without  exception,  are  called  upon  to  take  part  in  these 
robberies  and  murders,  the  international  relations  are  in- 
tentionally made  more  and  more  complex,  so  as  to  lead 
up  to  war,  peaceful  countries  are  robbed  without  any 
cause,  every  year  people  are  robbed  and  killed  somewhere, 


CARTHAGO  DELENDA  EST         121 

and  all  men  live  in  constant  fear  of  universal  mutual  pil- 
lage aud  murder.  It  would  seem  to  be  obvious  that  if 
such  a  phenomenon  takes  place,  it  is  due  to  this,  that  the 
greater  masses  are  deceived  by  the  minority,  to  which 
this  deception  is  profitable,  and  that,  therefore,  the  first 
thing  those  who  want  to  free  people  from  the  calamities 
of  these  mutual  robberies  and  murders  ought  to  do  is  to 
lay  open  the  deception  in  which  the  masses  are,  to  show 
the  masses  how  the  deception  is  accomplished,  how  it  is 
maintained,  and  how  to  be  freed  from  it.  But  the  en- 
lightened men  of  Europe  do  nothing  of  the  kind :  instead 
of  it  they,  under  the  pretext  of  cooperating  with  the  es- 
tablishment of  peace,  at  first  gather  in  one  city  of  Europe, 
then  in  another,  and  seat  themselves  with  most  serious 
faces  at  tables  and  discuss  in  what  way  best  to  persuade 
the  robbers,  who  live  by  their  trade,  to  stop  committing 
robberies  and  become  peaceful  citizens,  and  then  they  put 
profound  questions :  the  first,  as  to  whether  history,  right, 
progress  demand  war,  as  though  the  fictions  which  we 
invent  can  demand  of  us  a  departure  from  ^he  funda- 
mental moral  law  of  our  life ;  the  second  question,  —  as 
to  what  can  be  the  consequences  of  war,  as  though  there 
can  be  any  doubt  in  this,  that  the  consequences  of  war 
will  always  be  universal  calamity  and  universal  corrup- 
tion ;  and,  finally,  the  third  question,  how  to  solve  the 
problem  of  war,  as  though  there  existed  a  difficult  problem 
about  how  to  free  deceived  men  from  the  deception  which 
we  see  clearly. 

This  is  terrible.  We  see,  for  example,  that  healthy, 
peaceable,  often  happy  people  from  year  to  year  frequent 
gambling-dens,  such  as  Monte  Carlo,  and  leave  there,  for 
the  advantage  of  the  keepers  of  these  dens,  their  health, 
their  peace,  their  honour,  and  frequently  their  lives.  We 
are  sorry  for  these  men ;  we  see  clearly  that  the  deception 
to  which  these  people  are  subjected  consists  in  those 
temptations  by  means  of  which  the  players  are  enticed, 


122         CAKTHAGO  DELENDA  EST 

in  the  inequality  of  the  chances,  and  in  the  infatuation 
of  the  players,  who  know  that  in  general  they  will  be 
losers,  but  none  the  less  hope  that  they  will  at  least  once 
be  more  fortunate  than  others.  All  that  is  perfectly  clear. 
And  here,  instead  of  freeing  people  from  these  calamities, 
instead  of  pointing  out  to  them  the  temptations  to  which 
they  are  subjected,  the  certainty  of  their  losses,  the  im- 
morality of  the  play,  which  is  based  on  the  expectation 
of  other  people's  misfortunes,  we  meet  with  distinguished 
men  in  sessions  and  discuss  the  questions  as  to  how  to 
arrange  matters  so  that  the  keepers  of  the  gambling  estab- 
lishments shall  voluntarily  close  their  institutions,  we 
write  books  about  this,  and  ask  ourselves  questions  as  to 
whether  history,  right,  and  progress  do  not  demand  the 
existence  of  gambling  establishments,  and  what  may  be 
the  consequences  of  roulette,  —  the  economic,  intellectual, 
moral  consequences,  etc. 

If  a  man  drinks,  and  I  tell  him  that  he  can  himself 
stop  drinking  and  must  do  so,  there  is  some  hope  that  he 
will  pay  attention  to  me  ;  but  if  I  tell  him  that  his 
drunkenness  forms  a  complex  and  difficult  problem,  which 
we,  the  learned,  will  try  to  solve  in  our  meetings,  all  the 
probabilities  are  that  he,  waiting  for  the  solution  of  the 
problem,  will  continue  to  drink.  The  same  is  true  of 
the  false  and  intricate  scientific,  external  means  for  the 
cessation  of  war,  like  the  international  tribunals,  the  court 
of  arbitration,  and  other  similar  foolish  things,  when  we 
with  them  keep  in  abeyance  the  simplest  and  most  essen- 
tial means  for  the  cessation  of  war,  which  is  only  too 
obvious  to  anybody.  For  people  who  do  not  need  war 
not  to  fight  we  need  no  international  tribunals,  no  solu- 
tion of  questions,  but  only  that  the  people  who  are  subject 
to  deception  should  awaken  and  free  themselves  from  that 
spell  under  which  they  are.  This  means  for  the  abolition 
of  war  consists  in  this,  that  the  men  who  do  not  need 
war,  who  consider  a  participation  in  war  to  be  a   sin, 


CARTHAGO  DELENDA  EST         123 

should  stop  fighting.  This  means  has  been  preached 
since  the  most  remote  times  by  Christian  writers,  —  Ter 
tullian,  Origen,  and  by  the  Paulicians  and  their  continua- 
tors,  the  Mennouites,  the  Quakers,  the  Herrnhuters ; 
about  this  means  wrote  Dymond,  Garrison,  Ballou ;  it 
will  soon  be  twenty  years  during  which  I  have  in  every 
way  elucidated  the  sin,  harmfulness,  and  senselessness  of 
military  service.  This  means  was  applied  long  ago,  and 
has  been  applied  with  particular  frequency,  both  by  sepa- 
rate individuals  in  Austria,  Prussia,  Switzerland,  Holland, 
Sweden,  Paissia,  and  by  whole  societies,  such  as  the  Qua- 
kers, Mennonites,  Nazarenes,  and  of  late  the  Dukhobors,  a 
whole  fifteen  thousand  of  whom  have  now  for  three  years 
been  struggling  against  the  mighty  Paissian  government, 
in  spite  of  all  the  sufferings  to  which  they  are  subjected, 
without  acceding  to  its  demands  that  they  take  part  in  the 
crimes  of  military  service. 

But  the  enlightened  friends  of  peace  not  only  do  not 
propose  this  means,  —  they  cannot  even  bear  the  mention 
of  it ;  and  when  they  hear  of  it,  they  make  it  appear  that 
they  do  not  notice  it,  or,  if  they  notice  it,  they  shrug  their 
shoulders  with  a  significant  mien,  expressing  compassion 
for  those  uneducated  and  senseless  people,  who  use  such 
an  inefficacious,  stupid  means,  when  they  have  such  a 
good  means,  which  consists  in  throwing  salt  on  the  tail 
of  the  bird  which  you  want  to  catch,  that  is,  in  persuading 
the  governments,  which  live  only  by  violence  and  decep- 
tion, to  renounce  this  violence  and  deception. 

They  say  that  the  misunderstandings  that  may  arise 
between  the  governments  will  be  decided  by  tribunals  or 
by  a  court  of  arbitration.  But  the  governments  do  not  at 
all  wish  for  the  settling  of  these  misunderstandings :  on 
the  contrary,  the  governments  invent  misunderstandings, 
if  they  do  not  exist,  because  only  misunderstandings  with 
other  governments  give  them  an  opportunity  of  maintain- 
ing the  army  on  which  their  power  is  based.     Thus  the 


124         CARTHAGO  DELENDA  EST 

enlightened  friends  of  peace  try  to  distract  the  attention 
of  the  suffering  working  people  from  the  only  means 
which  frees  them  from  the  slavery,  in  which  they  are 
held  from  childhood  by  means  of  patriotism,  and  then  by 
means  of  the  venal  priests  of  a  corrupt  Christianity,  by 
binding  men  by  an  oath  and,  finally,  threatening  them 
with  punishments. 

In  our  time,  when  close  peaceful  relations  have  been 
established  between  the  men  of  various  nationalities  and 
states,  the  deception  of  patriotism,  which  always  demands 
the  preference  of  one  state  or  nationality  to  others,  and 
which,  therefore,  always  draws  people  into  useless  and 
ruinous  wars,  is  too  obvious  for  sensible  people  not 
to  be  freed  from  it ;  the  deception  of  the  obligatoriness 
of  the  religious  oath,  which  is  clearly  forbidden  in  the 
Gospel  professed  by  the  governments,  is,  thank  God,  be- 
lieved in  less  and  less,  so  that  it  is  only  the  fear  of  the 
punishment  which  is  imposed  on  such  refusals  by  the 
government,  that  for  the  majority  of  men  serves  as  a 
barrier  to  refusing  to  take  part  in  military  service.  But 
this  fear,  too,  is  only  a  consequence  of  the  deception 
practised  by  the  governments,  and  has  no  foundation  but 
in  hypnosis. 

The  governments  may  and  must  be  afraid  of  those  who 
refuse,  and,  in  reality,  are  afraid  of  them,  because  every 
refusal  undermines  the  prestige  of  the  deception,  in  which 
the  governments  keep  men,  but  those  who  refuse  have  no 
reason  to  fear  the  government  which  demands  the  crime. 
By  refusing  to  do  military  service  every  man  risks  much 
less  than  in  entering  the  army.  The  refusal  to  do  mili- 
tary service,  and  the  punishment,  —  imprisonment,  exile, 
— -  are  frequently  only  a  profitable  self-insurance  from  the 
dangers  of  military  service.  Upon  entering  military  serv- 
ice a  man  risks  taking  part  in  war,  for  which  he  is  being 
prepared,  and  of  getting  in  the  war  into  such  a  position 
that  he  will;  under  the  most  oppressive  and  agonizing  o£ 


CARTHAGO  DELENDA  EST         125 

conditions,  be  certainly  killed,  like  one  condemned  to 
death,  or  crippled,  as,  indeed,  I  saw  at  Sevastopol,  where 
a  regiment  came  to  a  bastion  where  two  regiments  had 
already  been  killed  off,  and  remained  there  until  it,  too, 
was  annihilated.  A  second,  more  advantageous  eventu- 
ality is  this,  that  the  one  who  does  military  service  will 
not  be  killed,  but  will  only  fall  sick  and  die  from  the 
unhealthy  conditions  of  mihtary  service.  A  third  eventu- 
ality is  this,  that,  having  been  insulted,  he  will  not  hold 
out,  will  say  something  rude  to  his  superior,  will  violate 
discipline,  and  will  be  subjected  to  a  worse  punishment 
than  what  he  would  suffer  by  refusing  to  do  military 
service.  The  most  advantageous  eventuality  is  this,  that, 
instead  of  imprisonment  or  deportation,  to  which  he  who 
refuses  military  service  would  be  subjected,  he  will  pass 
three  or  five  years  of  his  life  in  preparing  himself  to  com- 
mit murder,  in  a  corrupt  circle  and  in  a  slavery  similar 
to  that  in  a  prison,  except  for  a  degrading  humility  to 
corrupt  men. 

So  much  in  the  first  place.  In  the  second  place,  in 
refusing  military  service,  every  man,  however  improbable 
this  may  be,  may  none  the  less  count  on  having  to  suffer 
no  punishment,  because  his  refusal  will  be  that  last 
arraignment  of  the  government's  deception,  in  conse- 
quence of  which  it  will  not  be  possible  for  any  one  to 
punish  him,  because  no  people  will  be  found  who  are  so 
stultified  that  they  can  cooperate  in  the  punishment 
of  the  man  who  refuses  to  take  part  in  their  oppression. 
Thus  the  submission  to  the  demands  of  military  service 
is  obviously  only  a  submission  to  the  hypnosis  of  the 
crowd,  —  a  quite  useless  jumping  of  Panurge's  sheep  into 
the  water  to  their  obvious  destruction. 

But,  besides  the  consideration  of  advantage,  there  is 
also  another  cause  which  ought  to  urge  every  man  who 
is  free  from  hypnosis  and  who  understands  the  signifi- 
cance of  his  acts  to  refuse  to  do  military  service.     A  man 


126         CARTHAGO  DELENDA  EST 

cannot  help  but  wish  that  his  life  should  not  be  a  useless, 
aimless  existence,  but  that  it  should  be  a  service  to  God 
and  men.  Frequently  a  man  lives  his  life,  without  find- 
ing an  opportunity  for  this  service.  The  call  to  take  part 
in  military  service  is  that  opportunity  which  presents 
itself  to  every  man  of  our  time.  Every  man,  by  refusing 
to  take  part  personally  in  military  service,  either  as  a 
recruit  or  as  a  payer  of  taxes  to  the  government,  which 
uses  these  taxes  for  military  matters,  by  this  refusal  in 
the  most  efficacious  manner  does  a  great  service  to  God 
and  men,  because  by  this  refusal  he  in  the  most  efficacious 
manner  contributes  to  the  forward  movement  of  humanity 
toward  that  better  social  structure,  toward  which  human- 
ity is  striving  and  at  which  it  must  arrive. 

But  it  is  not  only  advantageous  to  refuse  to  take  part 
in  military  service,  and  not  only  ought  this  to  be  done,  — 
for  the  majority  of  the  men  of  our  time,  if  they  are  at  all 
free  from  hypnosis,  it  is  impossible  not  to  renounce  mili- 
tary service.  For  every  man  there  are  certain  acts  which 
are  morally  impossible,  just  as  impossible  as  are  certain 
physical  acts.  Such  a  morally  impossible  act  for  the 
vast  majority  of  the  men  of  our  time,  if  one  is  at  all 
free  from  hypnosis,  is  the  promise  of  slavish  obedience  to 
strangers  and  immoral  men,  whose  professed  aim  is  to 
kill  men.  And  so  every  man  of  our  time  not  only  will 
find  it  advantageous  and  necessary  to  refuse  to  take  part 
in  military  service,  but  even  impossible  to  refrain  from 
doing  so,  if  he  is  at  all  free  from  the  stultification  of 
hypnosis. 

"  But  what  will  happen,  when  aU  men  shall  refuse  to 
do  militarv  service,  and  there  shall  be  no  bridle  and  no 
fear  on  the  evil  ones,  and  the  evil  ones  shall  triumph,  and 
there  shall  be  no  defence  against  the  savages,  —  against 
the  yellow  race,  —  who  will  come  and  conquer  us  ?" 

I  shall  not  speak  of  the  fact  that  the  evil  men  have 
triumphed  long  ago  and  still  continue  to  triumph,  and, 


CARTHAGO  DELENDA  EST         127 

struggling  among  themselves,  have  for  a  long  time  been 
ruhng  over  the  Christians,  so  that  there  is  no  cause  for 
fearing  what  has  happened  long  ago ;  nor  shall  I  speak  of 
this,  that  the  fear  of  v^ild  and  of  yellow  men,  whom  we 
persistently  irritate  and  teach  war,  is  a  barren  excuse,  and 
that  for  the  imaginary  defence  against  these  wild  and  yel- 
low men  oue-huudredth  part  of  those  armies  which  Europe 
now  maintains  w^ould  suffice  ;  I  shall  not  speak  of  all  that, 
because  the  considerations  as  to  what  may  happen  to  the 
world  at  large  from  such  or  such  an  act  of  ours  cannot 
serve  as  a  guidance  for  our  acts  and  our  activity.  Man 
has  given  to  him  a  different  guide,  one  that  is  incontest- 
able, —  the  guide  of  his  conscience,  by  followiDg  which 
he  knows  beyond  a  doubt  that  he  is  doing  what  he  ought 
to  do.  And  so  all  the  considerations  about  the  dangers 
which  confront  the  separate  individual  who  refuses  to  do 
military  service,  as  also  about  this,  what  danger  threatens 
the  world  in  consequence  of  such  refusals,  —  all  those  are 
particles  of  that  vast  and  terrible  deception  in  which 
Christian  humanity  is  enmeshed,  and  which  is  carefully 
maintained  by  the  governments,  which  live  by  this  de- 
ception. 

From  a  man's  acting  as  his  reason,  his  conscience,  his 
God  commands  him  to  act,  nothing  but  the  best  can 
result,  both  for  him  and  for  the  world. 

The  men  of  our  time  complain  of  the  evil  current  of 
life  in  our  Christian  world.  This  cannot  be  otherwise, 
when  in  our  consciousness  we  have  recognized  not  only 
the  fundamental  divine  commandment,  "  Do  not  kill," 
which  was  proclaimed  thousands  of  years  ago,  but  also 
the  law  of  the  love  and  brotherhood  of  all  men,  and 
when,  in  spite  of  this,  every  man  of  out  European  world 
in  reality  renounces  this  fundamental  divine  law,  which 
he  recognizes,,  and  at  the  command  of  a  president,  em- 
peror, minister,  a  Nicholas,  a  William,  puts  on  a  fool's 
costume,  takes  up  instruments  of  murder,  and  says, "  I  am 


128         CARTHAGO  DELENDA  EST 

ready,  —  I  will  strike  down,  ruin,  and  kill  whomsoever 
you  command  me  to." 

What,  then,  can  society  be,  which  is  composed  of  such 
men  ?     It  must  be  terrible,  and,  indeed,  it  is  terrible. 

Bethink  yourselves,  brothers !  Do  not  listen  to  those 
rascals  who  from  your  childhood  infect  you  with  the 
devilish  spirit  of  patriotism,  which  is  contrary  to  goodness 
and  truth,  and  which  is  needed  only  to  deprive  you  of 
your  property,  and  your  freedom,  and  your  human  dig- 
nity ;  and  do  not  listen  to  those  cheats  who  preach  war  in 
the  name  of  God,  a  cruel  and  revengeful  G-od,  invented 
by  them,  and  in  the  name  of  the  false  Christianity,  which 
they  have  corrupted,  and  still  less  to  those  new  Sadducees 
who  in  the  name  of  science  and  enlightenment,  wishing 
for  nothing  but  the  continuation  of  the  present  order, 
gather  at  meetings,  write  books,  and  make  speeches, 
promising  to  establish  a  good  and  peaceful  life  for  men 
without  their  efforts.  Do  not  believe  them.  Believe  in 
nothing  but  your  feehng,  which  tells  you  that  you  are  not 
animals  or  slaves,  but  free  men,  who  are  responsible  for 
your  acts,  and  so  are  unable  to  be  murderers,  either 
by  your  own  will,  or  by  the  will  of  managers  who  live  by 
these  murders.  You  need  only  stop  and  think,  in  order 
that  you  may  see  all  the  terror  and  madness  of  what  you 
have  been  doing,  and,  having  come  to  see  it,  may  stop 
doing  the  evil  which  you  yourselves  hate  and  which 
ruins  you.  And  if  you  stop  doing  the  evil,  which  you 
yourselves  hate,  there  will  naturally,  without  your  effort, 
like  owls  before  dayhght,  disappear  all  those  ruling  cheats, 
who  at  first  corrupt  you  and  then  torment  you,  and  there 
will  naturally  be  formed  those  new,  human,  fraternal  con- 
ditions of  life,  for  which  Christian  humanity,  worn  out 
from  suffering,  exhausted  from  deception,  and  stuck  fast 
in  insolvable  contradictions,  has  been  yearning. 

Let  each  man  without  any  finely  spun  and  complicated 
considerations  and  assumptions  fulfil  what  his  conscience 


CARTHAGO  DELENDA  EST         129 

indubitably  tells  him  in  our  time,  and  he  will  know  the 
justice  of  the  Gospel  words,  "  If  any  man  will  do  His  will, 
he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine,  whether  it  be  of  God,  or 
whether  I  speak  of  myself "  (John  vii.  17). 
A^tril  23, 1898. 


TWO  WARS 

1898 


TWO  WARS 


Two  wars  are  at  the  present  time  being  waged  in  the 
Christian  world.  One,  it  is  true,  has  been  ended,  while 
the  other  is  still  going  on  ;  but  they  were  waged  at  one 
and  the  same  time,  and  the  contrast  between  the  two  is 
striking.  The  first,  now  ended,  was  an  old,  vainglorious, 
stupid,  cruel,  untimely,  obsolete,  pagan  war,  the  Spanish- 
American  War,  which  by  the  murder  of  one  set  of  men 
decided  how  and  by  whom  another  set  of  men  was  to  be 
ruled.  The  second  war,  which  is  still  going  on,  and 
which  will  be  ended  only  when  all  wars  shall  end,  is  a 
new,  self-sacrificing,  'sacred  war,  which  is  based  on  noth- 
ing but  love  and  reason,  the  war  against  war,  which  (as 
Victor  Hugo  expressed  it  at  one  of  the  congresses)  the 
best,  most  advanced  part  of  the  Christian  humanity  declared 
long  ago  against  the  other,  the  coarse  and  savage  part  of 
the  same  humanity,  and  which  a  handful  of  Christian 
men,  the  Dukhobors  of  the  Caucasus,  have  of  late  waged 
with  particular  force  and  success  against  the  powerful 
Russian  government. 

The  other  day  I  received  a  letter  from  Colorado,  from  a 
Mr.  Jesse  Glodwin,  who  asks  me  to  send  him  "  a  few 
words  or  thoughts,  expressive  of  my  sentiments,  in  regard 
to  the  noble  work  of  the  American  nation  and  the  heroism 
of  her  soldiers  and  sailors."  This  gentleman  is,  with  the 
vast  majority  of  the  American  nation,  fully  convinced 
that  the  action  of  the  Americans,  which  is,  that  they  beat 

133 


134  TWO    WARS 

a  few  thousands  of  almost  unarmed  men  (in  comparison 
with  the  armament  of  the  Americans  the  Spaniards  were 
almost  unarmed),  is  unquestionably  a  "  noble  work,"  and 
that  those  people  who,  having  killed  a  large  number  of 
their  neighbours,  for  the  most  part  survived  and  were  well 
and  fixed  themselves  comfortably  in  life,  were  heroes. 

The  Spanish-American  War,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
horrible  things  which  the  Spaniards  had  done  in  Cuba, 
and  which  served  as  the  pretext  for  the  war,  resembles 
this : 

A  decrepit  and  doting  old  man,  who  was  brought  up  in 
the  traditions  of  false  honour,  to  settle  a  misunderstanding 
that  arose  between  him  and  a  young  man,  challenges  this 
young  man,  who  is  in  the  full  possession  of  his  strength, 
to  fisticuffs ;  and  the  young  man,  who,  to  judge  from  his 
past  and  from  what  he  has  said  more  than  once,  ought  to 
stand  incomparably  higher  than  such  a  settlement  of  the 
question,  accepts  the  challenge  with  knuckles  in  his 
clenched  fist,  jumps  upon  the  decrepit  and  doting  old 
man,  knocks  out  his  teeth,  breaks  his  ribs,  and  then  ecstat- 
ically tells  his  exploits  to  a  vast  public  of  just  such  young 
men  as  he  is,  and  this  public  rejoices  and  praises  the  hero 
who  has  maimed  the  old  man. 

Such  is  the  one  war  which  occupied  the  minds  of  all 
in  the  Christian  world.  Nobody  speaks  of  the  other  war ; 
hardly  any  one  knows  anything  about  it.  The  other  war 
is  like  this  : 

All  the  states  deceive  the  people,  saying :  "  All  of  you 
who  are  ruled  by  me  are  in  danger  of  being  conquered  by 
other  nations ;  I  look  after  your  well-being  and  security, 
and  so  demand  that  you  shall  annually  give  me  millions 
of  roubles,  the  fruits  of  your  labours,  which  I  am  going 
to  use  for  rifles,  cannon,  powder,  ships  for  your  defence ; 
I  demand,  besides,  that  you  shall  enter  the  organizations 
instituted  by  me,  where  they  will  make  of  you  senseless 
particles  of  an  immense  machine,  —  the  army,  —  which  I 


TWO    WARS  135 

manage.  While  connected  with  this  army  you  will  cease 
being  men  and  having  your  own  will,  but  will  do  every- 
thing I  want  you  to  do.  What  I  want  to  do  first  of  all 
is  to  rule,  and  the  means  I  use  for  ruling  is  murder ;  and 
so  I  am  going  to  teach  you  to  commit  murder." 

In  spite  of  the  obvious  insipidity  of  the  assertion  that 
men  are  in  danger  from  the  attack  of  the  governments  of 
other  states,  which  assert  that  they,  in  spite  of  their  desire 
for  peace,  are  in  the  same  danger ;  in  spite  of  the  degrada- 
tion of  that  slavery  to  which  men  are  subjected  when 
they  enter  the  army ;  in  spite  of  the  cruelty  of  the 
business  to  which  they  are  called,  men  submit  to  the 
deception,  give  up  their  money  for  their  own  enslavement, 
and  themselves  enslave  one  another. 

And  here  there  appear  people  who  say : 

"  What  you  say  of  the  threatening  danger  and  of  your 
concern  about  protecting  us  against  it  is  a  deception. 
All  the  states  affirm  that  they  want  peace,  and  at  the 
same  time  arm  themselves  against  one  another.  Besides, 
according  to  the  law  which  you  profess,  all  men  are 
brothers,  and  it  makes  no  difference  whether  we  belong 
to  this  state  or  to  another,  and  so  the  attack  of  other 
states  upon  us,  with  which  you  frighten  us,  has  no  terror 
and  no  meaning  for  us.  But  the  main  thing  is  this,  that, 
according  to  the  law  which  was  given  to  us  by  God,  and 
which  you,  too,  profess,  who  demand  of  us  a  participation 
in  murder,  we  are  clearly  forbidden  to  commit  murder  or 
even  any  acts  of  violence,  and  so  we  cannot  and  will  not 
take  part  in  your  preparations  for  murder,  will  not  give 
you  any  money  for  the  purpose,  and  will  not  join  the 
gangs  established  by  you,  where  you  corrupt  the  reason 
and  the  conscience  of  men,  by  changing  them  into  instru- 
ments of  violence,  who  are  submissive  to  every  evil  man 
taking  this  instrument  into  his  hands." 

In  this  consists  the  second  war,  which  has  for  a  long 
time  been  waged  with  the  representatives  of  rude  force, 


136  TWO   WAKS 

and  which  of  late  has  burned  up  with  particular  virulence 
between  the  Dukhobors  and  the  Kussian  government. 
The  Kussian  government  has  brought  out  against  the 
Dukhobors  all  those  instruments  with  which  it  can  fight. 
These  instruments  are :  the  police  measures  of  arrests,  the 
prohibition  of  leaving  the  place  of  abode,  the  prohibition 
of  intercommunication,  the  seizure  of  letters,  espionage, 
the  prohibition  of  printing  in  the  newspapers  any  informa- 
tion on  matters  pertaining  to  the  Dukhobors,  calumny  of 
them,  printed  in  the  periodicals,  bribery,  flogging,  prisons, 
deportation,  the  ruin  of  families.  But  the  Dukhobors,  on 
their  side,  have  put  forth  nothing  but  their  own  religious 
instrument,  meek  reasonableness  and  long-suffering  firm- 
ness, and  say :  "  We  must  not  obey  men  more  than  God, 
and  no  matter  what  they  may  do,  we  cannot  and  will  not 
obey  them." 

They  praise  the  Spanish  and  American  heroes  of  that 
savage  war,  who,  wishing  to  distinguish  themselves  in 
the  eyes  of  men  and  to  receive  rewards  and  glory,  have 
killed  a  very  large  number  of  men,  or  themselves  have 
died  in  the  process  of  slaying  their  neighbours.  But  no 
one  speaks  or  knows  of  these  heroes  of  the  war  against 
war,  who  are  not  seen  and  heard  by  any  one,  who  have 
died  under  rods  or  in  stinking  cells,  or  in  oppressive  exile, 
and  still  to  their  very  last  breath  remain  true  to  the 
good  and  to  truth. 

I  know  of  dozens  of  these  martyrs  who  have  died,  and 
hundreds  who,  scattered  over  the  whole  world,  continue 
this  martyrs'  profession  of  the  truth. 

I  know  Drozhzhin,  a  peasant  teacher,  who  was  tortured 
to  death  in  the  disciplinary  battalion ;  I  know  another, 
Izyumch^nko,  Drozhzhin's  companion,  who  was  kept 
awhile  in  the  disciplinary  battalion  and  then  was  sent 
away  to  the  end  of  the  world ;  I  know  Olkhovik,  a  peas- 
ant, who  refused  to  do  military  service,  was  for  this  sen- 
tenced to  be  sent  to  the  disciplinary  battahon,  and  on  the 


TWO   WARS  137 

boat  converted  his  guard,  Sereda.  Sereda,  who  understood 
what  Olkhovik  said  about  the  sin  of  military  servicx;, 
came  to  the  authorities  and  said,  as  the  ancient  martyrs 
said :  "  I  do  not  want  to  be  with  the  tormentors,  join  me 
to  the  martyrs,"  and  they  began  to  torture  him,  sent 
him  to  the  disciplinary  battahon,  and  then  to  Yakutsk 
Territory.  I  know  dozens  of  Dukhobors,  many  of  whom 
have  died  or  grown  blind,  who  none  the  less  do  not  submit 
to  the  demands  which  are  contrary  to  the  law  of  God. 

The  other  day  I  read  a  letter  about  a  young  Dukhobor 
who  was  sent  by  himself,  without  any  companions,  to  a 
regiment  stationed  in  Samarkand.  Again  the  same  de- 
mands on  the  part  of  the  authorities,  and  the  same 
simple,  unswerving  answers :  "  I  cannot  do  what  is  con- 
trary to  my  faith  in  God."  — "  We  will  torture  you  to 
death."  —  "  That  is  your  business.  You  do  your  business, 
and  I  will  do  mine." 

And  this  twenty-year-old  boy,  cast  by  himself  into  a 
foreign  country,  amidst  hostile  people,  strong,  rich,  cul- 
tured people,  who  direct  all  their  forces  to  conquering 
him,  does  not  succumb  and  does  his  great  work. 

They  say :  "  These  are  useless  sacrifices.  These  men 
will  perish,  but  the  structure  of  life  will  remain  the 
same."  Even  thus,  I  think,  people  spoke  of  the  useless- 
ness  of  Christ's  sacrifice  and  of  the  sacrifice  of  all  the 
martyrs  for  the  sake  of  truth.  The  people  of  our  time, 
especially  the  scholars,  have  become  so  gross  that  they  do 
not  understand,  and  in  their  grossness  cannot  even  under- 
stand, the  significance  and  the  influence  of  spiritual  force. 
A  charge  of  ten  thousand  pounds  of  dynamite  sent  into  a 
crowd  of  living  men,  —  that  they  understand,  and  in  that 
they  see  strength ;  but  an  idea,  truth,  which  has  been 
realized,  has  been  introduced  into  life  to  the  point  of  mar- 
tyrdom, has  become  accessible  to  millions,  —  that  is  ac- 
cording to  their  conception  not  force,  because  it  does  not 
boom,  and  you  do  not  see  broken  bones  and  puddles  of 


138  •  TWO    WARS 

blood.  Scholars  (it  is  true,  bad  scholars)  use  all  the 
power  of  their  erudition  to  prove  that  humanity  lives  like 
a  herd,  which  is  guided  only  by  economic  conditions,  and 
that  reason  is  given  to  it  only  for  amusement ;  but  the 
governments  know  what  it  is  that  moves  the  world,  and 
so  unerringly,  from  a  sense  of  self-preservation,  look  most 
zealously  upon  the  manifestation  of  spiritual  forces,  on 
which  depends  their  existence  or  their  ruin.  For  this 
reason  all  the  efforts  of  the  Russian  government  have 
been  directed  upon  making  the  Dukhobors  harmless,  upon 
isolating  them  and  sending  them  abroad. 

But,  in  spite  of  all  their  efforts,  the  struggle  of  the 
Dukhobors  has  opened  the  eyes  of  millions. 

I  know  hundreds  of  old  and  young  military  men  who, 
thanks  to  the  persecutions  of  the  meek,  industrious 
Dukhobors,  have  had  misgivings  as  to  the  legality  of  their 
own  activity ;  I  know  people  who  for  the  first  time  re- 
flected upon  life  and  the  significance  of  Christianity,  when 
they  saw  the  life  of  these  people  or  heard  of  the  persecu- 
tions to  which  they  have  been  subjected. 

And  the  government,  which  rules  over  millions  of 
people,  knows  this  and  feels  that  it  has  been  struck  at  its 
very  heart. 

Such  is  the  second  war,  which  is  being  waged  in  our 
time,  and  such  are  its  consequences.  Its  consequences  are 
of  importance,  and  not  for  the  Russian  government  alone. 
Every  government  which  is  based  on  the  army  and  on 
violence  is  struck  in  the  same  way  by  this  weapon.  Christ 
said,  "  I  have  conquered  the  world."  He  has  really  con- 
quered the  world,  if  people  will  only  believe  in  the  power 
of  this  weapon  which  is  given  to  them. 

This  weapon  is,  for  each  man  to  follow  his  own  reason 
and  conscience. 

This  is  so  simple,  so  indubitable  and  obligatory  for 
every  single  man.  "  You  want  to  make  me  a  participant 
in  murder.    You  demand  of  me  money  for  the  preparation 


TWO   WARS  139 

of  the  implements  of  murder,  and  you  want  me  to  become 
a  participant  in  the  organized  gathering  of  murderers," 
says  a  rational  man,  who  has  not  sold  or  dimmed  his  con- 
science. "  But  I  confess  the  same  law  with  you,  in 
which  not  only  murder,  but  even  every  hostility,  has  long 
ago  been  forbidden,  and  so  I  cannot  obey  you." 

It  is  this  means,  which  is  so  simple,  that  conquers  the 
world. 

Ydsnaya  Poly  ana,  August  15,  1898. 


PATRIOTISM   AND   GOVERN- 

MENT 

1900 


PATRIOTISM  AND  GOVERN- 
MENT 


I  HAVE  several  times  had  occasion  to  express  the  idea 
that  patriotism  is  in  our  time  an  unnatural,  irrational, 
harmful  sentiment,  which  causes  the  greater  part  of  those 
calamities  from  which  humanity  suffers,  and  that,  there- 
fore, this  sentiment  ought  not  to  be  cultivated,  as  it  now 
is,  but,  on  the  contrary,  ought  to  be  repressed  and  des- 
troyed with  all  means  that  sensible  people  can  command. 
But,  strange  to  say,  in  spite  of  the  evident  and  incontest- 
able relation  of  the  universal  armaments  and  destructive 
wars,  which  ruin  the  nations,  to  this  exclusive  sentiment, 
all  my  arguments  as  to  the  obsoleteness,  untimehuess,  and 
harm  of  patriotism  have  been  met  either  with  silence 
or  with  intentional  misunderstanding,  or,  again,  with  the 
same  strange  retort:  "What  is  said  is  that  there  is 
harm  in  the  bad  patriotism,  jmgoisra,  chauvinism,  but  the 
real,  good  patriotism  is  a  very  elevated,  moral  sentiment, 
which  it  is  not  only  senseless,  but  even  criminal  to  con- 
demn." But  as  to  what  this  real,  good  patriotism  consists 
in,  either  nothing  is  said,  or,  instead  of  an  explanation, 
they  utter  pompous,  highfalutin  phrases,  or  something 
which  has  nothing  in  common  with  patriotism  is  put  in 
the  place  of  this  patriotism,  which  we  all  know  and  from 
which  we  suffer  so  cruelly. 

143 


144  PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVEENMENT 

They  generally  say  that  the  true,  good  patriotism  con- 
sists in  wishing  the  real  good  for  one's  nation  or  state, 
the  good  which  does  not  impair  that  of  the  other  nations. 

The  other  day,  while  speaking  with  an  Englishman 
ahout  the  present  war,  I  told  him  that  the  real  cause  was 
not  any  selfish  aims,  as  is  generally  assumed,  but  patriot- 
ism, as  was  evident  from  the  mood  of  all  English  society. 
The  Englishman  did  not  agree  with  me,  and  said  that  if 
that  was  true,  it  was  due  to  the  fact  that  the  patriotism 
which  was  now  animating  the  English  was  a  false  patriot- 
ism, but  that  the  good  patriotism,  with  which  he  was 
permeated,  consisted  in  this,  that  the  English,  his  fellow 
citizens,  should  not  act  badly. 

"Do  you  wish  that  only. the  English  should  not  act 
badly?"  I  asked. 

"  I  wish  this  to  all ! "  he  answered,  showing  plainly  by 
this  answer  that  the  properties  of  benefits  —  be  they 
moral,  scientific,  or  even  applied,  practical  —  are  by  their 
nature  such  that  they  extend  over  all  men,  and  so  the 
desire  for  such  benefits  for  any  one  is  not  only  no  patriot- 
ism, but  even  excludes  it. 

Similarly  the  peculiarities  of  every  nation,  which'  some 
other  defenders  of  patriotism  intentionally  substitute  for 
this  concept,  are  no  patriotism.  They  say  that  the  pecu- 
liarities of  each  nation  constitute  an  indispensable  condi- 
tion for  the  progress  of  humanity,  and  so  patriotism, 
which  strives  after  the  retention  of  these  peculiarities,  is 
a  good  and  useful  sentiment.  But  is  it  not  obvious  that 
if  at  some  time  the  peculiarities  of  each  nation,  its  cus- 
toms, beliefs,  language,  formed  an  indispensable  condition 
of  the  hfe  of  humanity,  these  same  peculiarities  serve  in 
our  time  as  the  chief  impediment  to  the  realization  of 
the  ideal  of  the  brotherly  union  of  the  nations,  which  is 
already  cognized  by  men  ?  And  so  the  maintenance  and 
preservation  of  the  peculiarities  of  any  nationality,  Eus- 
sian,  German,  French,  Anglo-Saxon,  provoking  a  similar 


PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT  145 

maintenance  and  preservation  not  only  on  the  part  of  the 
Hungarian,  Polish,  Irish  nationalities,  but  also  on  the  pait 
of  the  Basque,  ProveuQal,  Mordvinian,  Chuvash,. and  a 
mass  of  other  nationahties,  does  not  make  for  the  closer 
friendship  and  union  of  men,  but  for  their  greater  and 
ever  greater  estrangement  and  division. 

Thus  it  is  not  the  imaginary,  but  the  real  patriotism, 
the  one  which  we  all  know,  under  the  influence  of 
which  the  majority  of  the  men  of  our  time  are,  and  from 
which  humanity  is  suffering  so  cruelly,  that  is,  not  a  desire 
for  spiritual  benefits  for  one's  nation  (it  is  impossible  to 
wish  for  spiritual  benefits  for  only  one's  own  nation),  and 
not  the  peculiarities  of  national  individuahties  (that  is  a 
quality,  and  by  no  means  a  sentiment),  but  a  very  definite 
feeling  of  preferring  one's  own  nation  or  state  to  all  the 
other  nations  and  states,  and  so  it  is  a  desire  that  this 
nation  or  state  enjoy  the  greatest  welfare  and  greatness, 
which  can  be  obtained  and  always  are  obtained  only  at 
the  expense  of  the  welfare  and  greatness  of  other  nations 
and  states. 

It  would  seem  to  be  obvious  that  patriotism  as  a  senti- 
ment is  bad  and  harmful ;  as  a  doctrine  it  is  stupid,  since 
it  is  clear  that  if  every  nation  and  state  shall  consider 
itself  the  best  of  nations  and  states,  all  of  them  will  find 
themselves  in  a  gross  and  harmful  error. 


One  would  think  that  the  harmfulness  and  irrationality 
of  patriotism  ought  to  be  obvious  to  men.  But,  strange 
to  say,  enlightened,  learned  men  not  only  fail  to  see  this, 
but  also  with  the  greatest  persistency  and  fervour,  though 
without  any  rational  foundations,  refute  every  indication 
of  the  harmfulness  and  irrationality  of  patriotism,  and 
continue  to  laud  its  beneficence  and  exalted  condition. 

What  does  that  mean  ? 


146  PATKIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT 

Only  one  explanation  of  this  remarkable  phenomenon 
presents  itself  to  me.  The  whole  history  of  humanity, 
from  t^ie  most  remote  times  to  the  present,  may  be  viewed 
as  the  motion  of  the  consciousness  of  separate  individuals 
and  of  homogeneous  aggregates  of  them  from  lower  to 
higher  ideas. 

The  whole  path  traversed  both  by  each  individual  per- 
son and  the  homogeneous  groups  of  men  may  be  considered 
as  a  consecutive  series  of  steps,  from  the  lowest,  which  is 
on  a  level  with  the  animal  hfe,  to  the  highest  which  at  a 
given  historical  moment  may  be  reached  by  the  conscious- 
ness of  man. 

Every  man,  like  the  separate  homogeneous  groups,— 
the  nations,  the  states,  —  has  always  walked,  as  it  were, 
over  the  steps  of  ideas.  Some  parts  of  humanity  march 
on,  others  fall  far  behind,  and  others  again,  the  major- 
ity, move  in  the  middle.  But  all  of  them,  no  matter  on 
what  step  they  may  be  standing,  having  behind  them 
the  obsolete  recollections  of  the  past,  and  ahead  of  them 
the  ideals  of  the  future,  are  always  in  a  process  of  strug- 
gling between  the  obsolete  ideas  of  the  past  and  the  ideas 
of  the  future,  which  are  just  entering  into  life..  What 
generally  takes  place  is  this,  that  when  an  idea,  which  in 
the  past  was  useful  and  even  indispensable,  becomes  super- 
fluous, this  idea,  after  a  more  or  less  prolonged  struggle, 
gives  way  to  a  new  idea,  which  heretofore  was  an  ideal, 
but  now  becomes  the  idea  of  the  present. 

But  it  also  happens  that  the  obsolete  idea,  which  in  the 
consciousness  of  men  has  already  given  way  to  the  higher 
idea,  is  such  that  the  maintenance  of  this  obsolete  idea  is 
advantageous  for  some  people,  who  have  the  greatest  influ- 
ence in  society.  And  then  it  happens  that  this  obsolete 
idea,  in  spite  of  its  sharp  contradiction  to  the  whole  struc- 
ture of  life,  which  is  changed  in  the  other  relations,  con- 
tinues to  influence  men  and  to  guide  them  in  their  acts. 
Such  a  retardation  of  an  obsolete  idea  has  always  taken 


PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT  147 

place  in  the  sphere  of  religion.  The  reason  of  it  is  this, 
that  the  priests,  whose  advantageous  position  is  connected 
with  the  obsolete  religious  idea,  making  use  of  their 
power,  intentionally  retain  the  obsolete  idea  in  the  minds 
of  men. 

Tlie  same  takes  place,  and  for  the  same  reason,  in  the 
political  sphere,  in  relation  to  the  idea  of  patriotism,  on 
which  every  state  structure  is  based.  Men  who  prolit  by 
it  artificially  maintain  this  idea,  which  no  longer  has  any 
sense  or  use.  They  are  able  to  do  so,  since  they  are  in 
possession  of  the  most  powerful  means  for  influencing 
men. 

In  this  do  I  find  an  explanation  of  the  strange  contra- 
diction between  the  obsolete  idea  of  patriotism  and  the 
whole  contrary  train  of  ideas,  which  in  our  time  have 
already  passed  into  the  consciousness  of  the  Christian 
world. 


Patriotism,  as  a  sentiment  of  exclusive  love  for  one's 
nation  and  as  a  doctrine  about  the  virtuous  sacrifice  of 
one's  peace,  property,  and  even  life  for  the  defence  of  the 
weak  against  the  murderousness  and  violence  of  their 
enemies,  was  the  highest  idea  of  a  time  when  every  nation 
considered  it  possible  and  just,  for  the  sake  of  its  own 
good  and  greatness,  to  subject  the  men  of  another  nation 
to  murder  and  pillage ;  but  as  far  back  as  two  thousand 
years  ago,  the  highest  representatives  of  the  wisdom  of 
humanity  began  to  recognize  the  higher  idea  of  the  brother- 
hood of  men,  and  this  idea,  entering  the  cousciousness 
more  and  more,  has  in  our  time  received  the  most  varied 
realization.  Thanks  to  the  greater  ease  of  inter-communi- 
cation, the  unification  of  industry,  commerce,  the  arts  and 
the  sciences,  the  men  of  our  time  are  so  united  among 
themselves  that  the  danger  of  conquests,  slaughter,  and 


148  PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT 

violence  on  the  part  of  neighbouring  nations  has  entirely 
disappeared,  and  all  the  nations  (the  nations,  not  the  gov- 
ernments) live  among  themselves  in  peaceful,  mutually- 
advantageous,  amicable,  industrial,  commercial,  mental 
relations,  which  they  have  no  reason  and  no  need  to 
violate.  And  so  it  would  seem  that  the  obsolete  feel- 
m<y  of  patriotism  ought  to  be  destroyed  more  and  more 
and  to  vanish  completely,  as  superfluous  and  incom- 
patible with  the  vitalized  consciousness  of  the  brotherhood 
of  the  men  of  the  various  nationalities.  However,  the 
reverse  takes  place :  this  harmful  and  obsolete  sentiment 
not  only  continues  to  exist,  but  is  even  fanned  more  and 

more. 

The  nations  without  any  rational  foundation,  contrary 
to  their  consciousness  and  their  advantages,  not  only 
sympathize  with  the  governments  in  their  attacks  upon 
other  nations,  in  their  seizures  of  the  possessions  of  others, 
and  in  the  use  of  violence  in  defending  what  has  already 
been  seized,  —  but  themselves  demand  these  attacks,  sei- 
zures, and  defences,  and  rejoice  in  them  and  are  proud 
of  them.  The  minor  oppressed  nationalities,  which  have 
fallen  into  the  power  of  the  larger  states,  —  the  Poles,  the 
Irish,  the  Bohemians,  the  Finns,  the  Armenians,  —  react- 
ing against  the  patriotism  of  the  conquerors,  which  is 
crushing  them,  have  to  such  an  extent  become  infected 
by  the  oppressing  nations  with  the  obsolete,  useless,  sense- 
less, and  harmful  sentiment  of  patriotism,  that  their  whole 
activity  is  centred  upon  it,  and  they  themselves,  suffering 
from  the  patriotism  of  the  powerful  nations,  are  prepared 
out  of  the  same  patriotism  to  do  to  the  other  nations  the 
same  that  the  nations  which  have  conquered  them  have 
been  doing  to  them. 

This  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  ruling  classes  (meaning 
by  this  not  merely  the  governments  with  their  officials, 
but  also  all  the  classes  which  enjoy  an  exclusive,  ad- 
vantageous   position,  —  the    capitahsts,    journahsts,    the 


PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT  149 

majority  of  artists  and  scholars)  are  able  to  retain  their 
exclusive  and  advantageous  position,  as  compared  with 
the  popular  masses,  only  thanks  to  the  poHtical  structure 
which  is  supported  by  means  of  patriotism.  By  having 
in  their  hands  all  the  most  powerful  means  for  influenc- 
ing the  masses,  they  always  unswervingly  maintain  the 
patriotic  feelings  in  themselves  and  in  others,  the  more 
so,  since  these  sentiments,  which  support  the  power  of 
the  state,  are  more  than  any  other  rewarded  by  that 
power. 

Every  official  succeeds  in  his  service  in  proportion 
to  his  patriotism;  even  so  a  military  man  can  advance 
in  his  career  only  in  a  war,  which  is  provoked  by  patriot- 
ism. 

Patriotism  and  its  consequences,  the  wars,  give  a  good 
income  to  the  newspaper  men  and  advantages  to  the 
majority  of  merchants.  Every  author,  teacher,  professor, 
will  make  his  position  the  more  secure,  the  more  he 
preaches  patriotism.  Every  emperor  and  king  gains  glory 
in  proportion  to  his  devotion  to  patriotism. 

The  army,  the  money,  the  school,  the  religion,  the  press, 
is  in  the  hands  of  the  ruling  classes.  In  the  schools  they 
fan  patriotism  in  the  children  by  means  of  history,  by 
describing  their  nation  as  the  best  of  all  the  nations  and 
always  in  the  right ;  in  the  adults  the  same  sentiment  is 
roused  by  means  of  spectacles,  celebrations,  monuments, 
and  a  patriotic,  lying  press ;  but  patriotism  is  chiefly 
roused  in  them  by  this,  that,  committing  all  kinds  of 
unjust  acts  and  cruelties  against  other  nations,  they  pro- 
voke in  these  nations  a  hatred  for  their  own  nation,  and 
then  use  this  hatred  for  provoking  such  a  hatred  in  their 
own  nation. 

The  fanning  of  this  terrible  sentiment  of  patriotism  has 
proceeded  in  the  European  nations  in  a  rapidly  increasing 
progression,  and  in  our  time  has  reached  a  stage  beyond 
which  it  cannot  go. 


150  PATRIOTISM   AND   GOVERNMENT 


Within  the  memory  of  all,  not  merely  old  men  of  our 
time,  there  took  place  an  event  which  in  the  most  obvious 
manner  showed  the  striking  stupefaction  to  which  the 
men  of  the  Christian  world  were  brought  by  means  of 
patriotism. 

The  German  ruling  classes  fanned  the  patriotism  of 
their  popular  masses  to  such  an  extent  that  in  the  second 
half  of  the  century  a  law  was  proposed  to  the  people, 
according  to  which  all  men  without  exception  were  to 
become  soldiers ;  all  sons,  husbands,  fathers,  were  to  study 
murder  and  to  become  submissive  slaves  of  the  first  high- 
est rank,  and  to  be  prepared  for  the  murder  of  those  whom 
they  would  be  ordered  to  kill,  —  the  men  of  the  oppressed 
nationalities  and  their  own  labourers  who  should  de- 
fend their  rights,  —  their  fathers  and  brothers,  as  the 
most  impudent  of  all  rulers,  WilHam  II.,  publicly  an- 
nounced. 

This  terrible  measure,  which  in  the  rudest  way  offends 
all  the  best  sentiments  of  men,  has,  under  the  influence 
of  patriotism,  been  accepted  without  a  murmur '  by  the 
nation  of  Germany. 

The  consequence  of  this  was  the  victory  over  the 
French.  This  victory  still  more  fanned  the  patriotism  of 
Germany,  and  later  of  France,  Eussia,  and  other  powers, 
and  all  the  people  of  the  Continental  powers  without  a 
murmur  submitted  to  the  introduction  of  a  universal 
military  service,  that  is,  to  slavery,  which  for  the  degree 
of  degradation  and  loss  of  will  cannot  be  compared  with 
any  of  the  ancient  conditions  of  slavery.  After  that,  the 
slavish  submission  of  the  masses  in  the  name  of  patriot- 
ism, and  the  impudence,  cruelty,  and  madness  of  the  gov- 
ernments knew  no  bounds.  There  began  a  mad  race, 
provoked  partly  by  lust,  partly  by  vanity,  and  partly  by 
greed,  for  the  seizure  of  foreign  lands  in  Asia,  Africa,  and 


PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT  151 

America,  and  a  greater  and  ever  greater  mistrust  and  fury 
of  the  governments  against  one  another. 

The  destruction  of  nations  on  seized  lands  was  taken 
as  something  self-evident.  The  only  question  was  as  to 
who  was  going  to  be  the  first  to  seize  the  land  and  to  des- 
troy its  inhabitants.  All  the  rulers  have  not  only  in  the 
most  obvious  manner  violated  the  most  primitive  demands 
of  justice  against  the  vanquished  nations  and  against  one 
another,  but  have  also  practised  all  kinds  of  deceptions, 
rascahties,  briberies,  forgeries,  espionage,  pillage,  and 
murder,  and  the  nations  have  not  only  failed  to  sympa- 
thize with  all  that,  but  have  even  rejoiced,  because  their 
states,  and  not  foreign  states,  have  been  committing  these 
evil  deeds.  The  mutual  enmity  of  the  nations  and  states 
has  of  late  reached  such  wonderful  dimensions  that, 
although  there  is  no  reason  why  one  state  should  attack 
other  states,  all  know  that  all  the  states  are  all  the  time 
standing  opposite  one  another  extending  their  claws  and 
showing  their  teeth,  and  just  waiting  for  some  one  to  fall 
into  misfortune  and  grow  feeble,  in  order  to  be  able  with 
the  least  danger  to  attack  him  and  tear  him  to  pieces. 

All  the  nations  of  the  so-called  Christian  world  have 
been  brought  by  patriotism  to  such  a  degree  of  bestializa- 
tion  that  not  only  the  men  who  are  put  to  the  necessity 
of  killing  or  being  killed,  wish  for  and  rejoice  at  murder, 
but  also  the  men  who  calmly  live  in  their  houses  in 
Europe,  who  are  not  threatened  by  any  one,  thanks  to  the 
rapid  and  easy  means  of  communication  and  to  the  press, 
—  all  men  in  Europe  and  in  America,  —  during  any 
war  are  in  the  position  of  spectators  in  a  Eoman  circus, 
and  just  like  them  rejoice  at  the  slaughter,  and  just  as 
bloodthirstily  cry,  "  Pollice  verso  !  " 

Not  only  the  adults,  but  also  the  children,  the  pure, 
wise  children,  according  to  the  nationality  to  which  they 
belong,  rejoice,  when  they  hear  that  not  seven  hundred, 
but  one  thousand  Englishmen  or  Boers  were  killed  and 


152  PATKIOTISM   AND    GOVERNMENT 

torn  to  pieces    by  lyddite    shells.     And    the   parents,  I 
know  such,  encourage  their  children  in  such  bestiahty. 

But  more  than  that.  Every  increase  of  the  army  of 
one  state  (and  every  state,  being  on  account  of  patriotism 
in  danger,  wishes  to  increase  it)  compels  the  neighbour- 
ing state  to  increase  its  army  also  for  the  sake  of  patriot- 
ism, which  again  calls  forth  a  new  increase  of  the  first. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  fortresses  and  Heets :  one  state 
builds  ten  ironclads,  so  the  neighbouring  ones  build 
eleven ;  then  the  first  builds  twelve,  and  so  on  in  an  end- 
less progression. 

"  I'll  pinch  you."  —  "  And  I'll  strike  you  with  my  fist." 
—  "  I'll  whip  you."  —  "  And  I'll  club  you."  —  "  I'll  shoot 
you."  Thus  quarrel  and  fight  only  bad  children,  drunken 
men,  or  animals,  and  yet  it  is  this  tliat  is  taking  place  in 
the  midst  of  the  highest  representatives  of  the  most  enhght- 
ened  states,  the  same  that  are  guiding  the  education  and 
morahty  of  their  subjects. 


The  state  of  affairs  is  getting  worse  and  worse,  and 
there  is  no  possibihty  whatever  of  arresting  this  degenera- 
tion, which  is  leading  to  certain  ruin.  The  only  way  out 
from  this  situation,  as  credulous  people  thought,  is  now 
closed  by  the  events  of  recent  times:  I  am  speaking  of 
The  Hague  conference,  and  the  war  between  England  and 
the  Transvaal,  which  followed  immediately  after. 

If  people  who  think  little  or  only  superficially  were 
able  to  console  themselves  with  the  idea  that  international 
tribunals  can  remove  the  calamities  of  war  and  the  ever- 
growing armaments,  The  Hague  conference,  with  the  war 
which  followed  upon  its  heels,  in  the  most  obvious  manner 
showed  the  impossibility  of  solving  the  question  in  this 
manner.  After  The  Hague  conference  it  became  obvious 
that  so  long  as  there  shall  exist  governments  with  armies, 


PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT  153 

the  cessation  of  armaments  and  wars  is  impossible.  For 
an  agreement  to  be  possible,  it  is  necessaiy  for  the  per- 
sons agreeing  to  believe  one  another.  But  for  the  powers 
to  believe  one  another,  they  must  lay  down  their  arms, 
as  do  bearers  of  truce,  when  they  come  together  for  a 
consultation. 

But  so  long  as  the  governments  do  not  believe  one  an- 
other, not  only  do  not  destroy  or  diminish,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  keep  increasing  their  armies,  in  conformity  with 
the  increase  among  their  neighbours,  and  unswervingly 
through  spies  watch  every  movement  of  the  armies,  know- 
ing that  every  power  will  attack  the  neighbouring  one  as 
soon  as  it  shall  have  a  chance  to  do  so,  no  agreement  is 
possible,  and  every  conference  is  either  a -piece  of  stu- 
pidity, or  a  plaything,  or  a  deception,  or  a  piece  of  impu- 
dence, or  all  these  things  taken  together. 

It  behooved  the  Russian  government,  more  than  any 
other,  to  become  the  enfant  terrible  of  this  conference. 
The  Russian  government  is  so  spoiled  by  the  fact  that  at 
home  no  one  retorts  to  all  those  obviously  lying  mani- 
festoes and  rescripts,  that,  having  without  the  least  scru- 
ples ruined  its  own  nation  by  means  of  armaments,  having 
choked  Poland,  robbed  Turkestan  and  China,  and  strangled 
Finland  with  particular  fury,  it  proposed  to  the  govern- 
ments to  disarm  themselves,  with  the  full  conviction  that 
it  would  be  believed. 

But,  no  matter  how  strange,  how  unexpected,  and  how 
indecent  this  proposition  was,  especially  at  a  time  when 
orders  had  been  given  to  increase  the  armies,  the  words, 
enunciated  in  the  hearing  of  all,  were  such  that  the  gov- 
ernments of  the  other  powers  could  not  before  their  nations 
decline  to  participate  in  the  comical,  patently  deceptive 
consultations,  and  the  delegates  came  together,  knowing 
in  advance  that  nothing  could  come  of  it,  and  in  the 
course  of  several  months,  during  which  they  received 
good  salaries,  though  they  laughed  in  their  sleeves,  all  of 


154  PATRIOTISM   AND    GOVERNMENT 

them  good-naturedly  pretended  that  they  were  busy  es- 
tablishing peace  among  the  nations. 

The  Hague  conference,  which  ended  in  terrible  blood- 
shed, —  the  Transvaal  war,  —  which  no  one  has  tried  to 
stop,  was  none  the  less  useful,  though  in  a  different  way 
from  what  was  expected  from  it :  it  was  useful  in  that  it 
showed  in  the  most  obvious  manner  that  the  evil  from 
which  the  nations  suffer  cannot  be  mended  by  the  govern- 
ments, and  that  the  governments,  even  if  they  wished  to 
do  so,  are  unable  to  abolish  either  armaments  or  wars. 
In  order  to  be  able  to  exist,  the  governments  must  defend 
their  nations  against  attacks  from  other  nations,  but  no 
nation  wants  to  attack  another,  or  ever  does  attack  an- 
other, and  so-  the  governments  not  only  do  not  wish  for 
peace,  but  even  make  efforts  to  rouse  the  hatred  of  the 
other  nations  toward  their  own.  Having  roused  the 
hatred  of  the  other  nations  toward  their  own,  and  patriot- 
ism in  their  own  nations,  the  governments  assure  their  peo- 
ple that  they  are  in  danger  and  must  defend  themselves. 

Having  the  power  in  their  hands,  the  governments  are 
able  to  irritate  the  other  nations  and  to  evoke  patriotism 
in  their  own,  and  they  use  every  effort  to  do  both,  nor 
can  they  themselves  help  doing  so,  because  upon  this  is 
their  existence  based. 

If  the  governments  were  needed  before  to  defend  their 
people  against  attacks  from  other  nations,  now,  on  the 
contrary,  the  governments  artificially  violate  the  peace 
which  exists  among  the  nations,  and  provoke  hostilities 
among  them. 

When  it  was  necessary  to  plough,  in  order  to  be  able 
to  sow,  ploughing  was  a  sensible  thing ;  but  it  is  evident 
that  it  is  senseless  and  harmful  to  plough,  after  the  crops 
have  grown  up.  And  yet  it  is  precisely  this  that  the 
governments  make  their  nations  do,  —  destroy  that  union 
which  exists  and  would  not  be  impaired  by  anything,  if 
there  were  no  governments. 


PATRIOTISM   AND    GOVERNMENT  155 


Indeed,  what  are  in  our  time  those  governments,  with- 
out wMch  it  seems  impossible  for  men  to  be  able  to  exist  ? 

If  there  was  a  time  when  the  governments  were  a  nec- 
essary and  lesser  evil  than  the  one  which  resulted  from 
defencelessness  in  relation  to  organized  neighbours,  the 
governments  have  now  become  an  unnecessary  and  much 
greater  evil  than  all  that  with  which  they  frighten  their 
nations. 

The  governments,  not  only  the  military  ones,  but  the 
governments  in  general,  could  be,  I  do  not  say  useful,  but 
harmless,  only  in  case  they  consisted  of  infallible,  holy 
people,  as  is  assumed  to  be  the  case  in  China.  But  the 
governments,  by  dint  of  their  very  activity,  which  consists 
in  the  practice  of  violence,  are  always  composed  of  ele- 
ments which  are  the  very  opposite  of  holy,  —  of  the  most 
impudent,  coarse,  and  corrupted  men. 

For  this  reason  every  government,  and  especially  every 
government  to  which  the  military  power  is  delegated,  is 
a  most  dangerous  institution  in  the  world. 

The  government,  in  its  broadest  sense,  with  the  inclu- 
sion of  capitalists  and  the  press,  is  nothing  but  an  organi- 
zation such  that  the  great  majority  of  men  are  in  the 
power  of  the  minority,  which  stands  above  them;  but 
this  minority  submits  itself  to  the  power  of  a  still  more 
restricted  minority,  and  this  again  to  a  still  more  restricted 
minority,  and  so  forth,  reaching  at  last  one  man  or  a  few 
men,  who  by  means  of  military  violence  gain  the  power 
over  all  the  rest.  Thus  this  whole  structure  is  like  a  cone, 
all  the  parts  of  which  are  in  the  full  power  of  the  few 
persons,  or  the  person,  at  the  apex  of  the  cone. 

But  the  apex  of  this  cone  is  seized  by  those  men,  or  by 
that  man,  who  is  more  cunning,  more  bold,  and  more 
unscrupulous  than  the  rest,  or  an  accidental  heir  of  those 
who  were  bolder  and  more  unscrupuluus. 


156  PATRIOTISM   AND    GOVERNMENT 

To-day  it  is  Boris  Godunov,  to-morrow  —  Grigdri  Otr^- 
pev ;  to-day  —  the  harlot  Catherine,  who  with  her  para- 
mours strangled  her  husband,  to-morrow  —  Pugach^v,  the 
day  after  —  mad  Paul,  Nicholas,  Alexander  III. 

To-day  —  Napoleon,  to-morrow  —  Bourbon  or  Orleans, 
Boulanger,  or  a  company  of  Panamaists  ;  to-day  —  Glad- 
stone, to-morrow  —  Salisbury,  Chamberlain,  PJiodes. 

And  it  is  such  governments  that  are  invested  with  full 
power,  not  only  over  property  and  life,  but  also  over  the 
spiritual  and  moral  development,  over  the  education,  the 
rehgious  guidance  of  all  men. 

Men  produce  this  terrible  machine  of  power,  letting 
any  one  who  pleases  seize  this  power  (and  all  the  chances 
are  that  it  will  be  seized  by  the  one  who  is  morally  worst), 
and  slavishly  submit  to  it,  and  marvel  that  they  are  faring 
badly.  They  are  afraid  of  mines,  of  anarchists,  and  are 
not  afraid  of  that  terrible  structure,  which  threatens  them 
any  minute  with  the  greatest  calamities. 

Men  found  that,  to  defend  themselves  against  enemies, 
it  is  useful  for  them  to  tie  themselves  together,  as  the 
Circassians  do,  when  defending  themselves.  But  there  is 
no  danger,  and  men  still  continue  to  tie  themselves. 

They  carefully  tie  themselves  in  such  a  way  that  one 
man  is  enabled  to  do  with  them  what  he  pleases ;  then 
they  allow  the  end  of  the  rope  which  binds  them  to  dan- 
gle about,  leaving  it  to  the  first  rascal  or  fool  to  take  it  up 
and  do  with  them  what  he  wants. 

Is  it  not  precisely  what  the  nations  are  doing,  when 
they  submit,  and  establish  and  support  a  government 
which  is  organized  with  military  power? 


To  free  people  from  those  terrible  calamities  of  arma- 
ments and  wars,  which  they  suffer  now,  and  which  keep 
growing  greater  and  greater,  we  do  not  need  congresses, 


PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT  157 

nor  conferences,  nor  treaties  and  tribunals,  but  the  aboli- 
tion of  that  implement  of  violence  which,  is  called  the 
governments,  and  from  which  originate  all  the  greatest 
calamities  of  men. 

To  abohsh  the  governments  only  one  thing  is  needed : 
it  is  necessary  that  men  should  understand  that  the  senti- 
ment of  patriotism,  which  alone  maintains  this  implement 
of  violence,  is  a  coarse,  harmful,  disgraceful,  and  bad,  and 
above  all,  immoral  sentiment.  It  is  coarse,  because  it  is 
characteristic  of  only  such  men  as  stand  on  the  lowest 
stage  of  morality  and  who  expect  from  other  nations  the 
same  acts  of  violence  that  they  want  to  practise  them- 
selves ;  it  is  harmful,  because  it  violates  the  advantageous 
and  joyous  peaceful  relations  with  other  nations,  and, 
above  all,  produces  that  organization  of  the  governments, 
in  which  the  worst  man  can  acquire  and  always  acquires 
the  power;  it  is  disgraceful,  because  it  transforms  the 
man  not  only  into  a  slave,  but  also  into  a  lighting  cock, 
bull,  gladiator,  who  ruins  his  forces  and  his  life,  not  for 
his  own  purposes,  but  for  those  of  his  government ;  it  is 
immoral,  because,  instead  of  recognizing  himself  as  the 
son  of  God,  as  Christianity  teaches  us,  or  at  least  as  a  free 
man,  who  is  guided  by  his  reason,  —  every  man,  under 
the  influence  of  patriotism,  recognizes  himself  as  the  son 
of  his  country,  the  slave  of  his  government,  and  commits 
acts  which  are  contrary  to  his  reason  and  to  his  conscience. 

Men  need  but  understand  this,  and  the  terrible  concat- 
enation of  men,  called  the  government,  will  fall  of  its  own 
accord,  without  any  struggle,  and  with  it  will  fall  that 
terrible,  useless  evil  which  is  caused  by  it  to  the  nations. 

]\Icn  are  begimiing  to  see  tliis.  This  is,  for  example, 
what  a  citizen  of  the  United  States  writes : 

"  The  one  thing  which  we  all,  farmers,  mechanics,  mer- 
chants, manufacturers,  teachers,  ask  is  the  right  to  attend 
to  our  own  business.  We  have  our  homes,  love  our  friends, 
are  devoted  to  our  families,  and  do  not  interfere  in  the 


158  PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT 

affairs  of  our  neighbours,  —  we  have  our  work,  and  we 
want  to  work. 

"  Leave  us  alone  ! 

"  But  the  politicians  will  not  leave  us  alone.  They 
impose  taxes  upon  us,  eat  up  our  sustenance,  keep  a  cen- 
sus of  us,  call  our  youths  to  their  wars. 

"  Whole  myriads  of  those  who  live  at  the  expense  of 
the  government  are  maintained  by  them,  in  order  to 
impose  taxes  upon  us ;  but  to  tax  us  successfully,  perma- 
nent armies  are  maintained.  The  argument  that  the  army 
is  needed  for  the  defence  of  the  country  is  an  obvious 
deception.  The  French  government  frightens  the  people 
by  saying  that  the  Germans  are  about  to  attack  them ; 
the  Russians  are  afraid  of  the  English ;  the  English  are 
afraid  of  everybody  else ;  and  now  we  are  told  in  America 
that  it  is  necessary  to  increase  the  fleet  and  to  add  to  the 
army,  because  Europe  may  at  any  moment  unite  against 
us.  That  is  a  deception  and  a  lie.  The  common  people 
in  France,  in  Germany,  in  England,  and  in  America  are 
against  war.  All  we  wish  is  to  be  left  alone.  The  men 
who  have  wives,  parents,  children,  homes,  have  no  desire 
to  go  away  to  fight  with  anybody.  We  are  peaceable  and 
fear  war,  —  we  hate  it. 

"  All  we  want  is  not  to  do  to  others  what  we  do  not 
want  others  to  do  to  us. 

"  War  is  a  direct  consequence  of  the  existence  of  armed 
men.  A  country  which  maintains  a  large  permanent 
army  will  fight  sooner  or  later.  A  man  who  is  proud  of 
his  strength  in  a  wrestling  match  will  some  day  meet  a 
man  who  considers  himself  a  champion  wrestler,  and  they 
will  fight.  Germany  and  France  are  only  waiting  for  a 
chance  to  try  their  strength.  They  have  fought  several 
times  and  will  fight  again.  Not  that  the  masses  wish  for 
war,  but  that  the  upper  classes  fan  in  them  their  mutual 
hatred  and  compel  people  to  think  that  they  must  fight 
in  order  to  defend  themselves. 


PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT  159 

"Men  who  would  like  to  follow  Christ's  teaching  are 
taxed,  insulted,  deceived,  and  drawn  into  the  army. 

"  Christ  taught  meekness,  humility,  forgiveness  of  sins, 
and  that  it  is  bad  to  kilL  Scripture  teaches  people  not  to 
swear,  but  the  '  upper  classes '  compel  us  to  swear  on  the 
Scripture,  in  which  they  do  not  beheve. 

"  How  can  we  be  freed  from  these  spendthrifts,  who 
do  not  work,  but  who  are  dressed  in  fine  cloth  with  brass 
buttons  and  costly  ornaments,  who  are  supported  by  our 
labours,  for  whom  we  till  the  soil  ? 

"  Shall  we  fight  with  them  ? 

"  But  we  do  not  recognize  bloodshed,  and,  besides,  they 
have  the  arms  and  the  money,  and  they  can  stand  it 
longer  than  we. 

"  But  who  composes  the  army  that  will  fight  us  ? 

"  This  army  is  formed  by  us,  our  deceived  neighbours 
and  brothers,  who  have  been  made  to  believe  that  they 
are  serving  God,  when  they  defend  their  country  from  the 
enemy.  In  reality  our  country  has  no  enemies  except 
the  upper  classes,  who  have  taken  upon  themselves  to 
guard  our  interests,  if  only  we  shall  consent  to  pay  the 
imposts.  They  consume  our  sustenance  and  rouse  our 
true  brothers  against  us,  in  order  to  enslave  and  degrade 
us. 

"  You  cannot  send  a  telegram  to  your  wife,  or  your 
friend,  or  your  commission  dealer,  unless  you  first  pay  a 
revenue,  which  is  being  collected  for  the  maintenance  of 
armed  men,  who  may  be  used  for  the  purpose  of  killing 
you,  and  who  will  unquestionably  put  you  in  jail,  if  you 
do  not  pay  it. 

"The  only  means  consists  in  impressing  people  with 
the  idea  that  it  is  bad  to  kill,  in  teaching  them  that  the 
whole  law  and  the  prophets  demand  that  we  should  not 
do  to  others  what  we  do  not  wish  that  others  should  do  to 
us.  Silently  disregard  these  upper  classes,  and  refuse 
to  bow  before  their  martial  idol.     Stop  supporting  preach- 


160  PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT 

ers  who  preach  war  and  put  forward,  patriotism  as  some- 
thing important. 

"  Let  them  go  and  work,  as  we  do. 

"  We  believe  in  Christ,  but  they  do  not.  Christ  said 
what  he  thought ;  they  say  what  they  think  will  please 
the  men  in  power,  — '  the  upper  class.' 

"  We  will  not  enter  military  service.  We  will  not 
shoot  at  their  command.  We  will  not  arm  ourselves 
with  bayonets  against  the  good  and  meek  masses.  We 
will  not  at  the  suggestion  of  Cecil  Khodes  shoot  at  shep- 
herds and  agriculturists,  who  are  defending  their  hearths. 

"  Your  deceptive  cry,  '  Wolf,  wolf  ! '  does  not  frighten 
us.  We  pay  our  imposts  only  because  we  are  compelled 
to  do  so.  We  will  pay  them  only  so  long  as  we  are  com- 
pelled to  do  so.  We  will  not  pay  any  church  tribute  to 
the  hypocrites,  nor  our  tithes  for  your  hypocritical  phi- 
lanthropy, and  we  will  on  every  occasion  express  our 
opinion. 

"  We  will  educate  the  men. 

"  And  all  the  time  our  silent  influence  will  grow ;  even 
the  soldiers  who  have  been  drafted  into  the  army  will 
waver  before  fighting.  We  will  preach  the  idea  that  the 
Christian  life  in  peace  and  good-will  is  better  than  a  life 
of  struggle,  bloodshed,  and  war. 

"  Peace  on  earth  will  come  only  when  men  shall  sepa- 
rate themselves  from  the  armies  and  will  wish  to  do  to 
others  what  they  wish  that  others  should  do  to  them." 

Thus  writes  a  citizen  of  the  United  States  of  North 
America,  and  on  all  sides  and  in  all  forms  similar  voices 
are  heard. 

Here  is  what  a  German  soldier  writes : 

"  I  have  taken  part  in  two  expeditions  of  the  Prussian 

Guard  (1866,  1870),  and  I  hate  war  from  the  depth  of  my 

.  heart,  since  it  has  made  me  inexpressibly  unhappy.     We, 

the  wounded  warriors,  receive  for    the    most  part   such 

miserable  rewards,  that  we  really  have  to  be  ashamed  of 


PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT  161 

having  ever  been  patriots.  I,  for  example,  receive  daily 
eighty  pfennigs  for  my  disabled  arm,  which  was  shot 
through  at  the  storming  of  Saint  Privas,  on  August  18, 
1870.  Many  a  hunting  dog  needs  more  for  its  main- 
tenance. I  have  suffered  for  years  from  my  disabled 
right  arm.  As  early  as  1866  I  took  part  in  the  war 
against  the  Austrians,  fighting  at  Trautenau  and  Konig- 
gratz,  and  I  have  seen  a  lot  of  horrors.  In  1870  I,  being 
in  the  reserve,  was  again  called  out,  and,  as  I  have  already 
said,  I  was  wounded  at  the  storming  of  Saint  Privas :  my 
right  arm  was  twice  shot  down  its  whole  length.  I  lost 
a  good  place  (I  was  then  a  beer  brewer),  and  after  that  I 
could  not  get  it  back.  Since  then  I  have  never  been 
able  to  get  on  my  legs  again.  The  intoxication  has 
passed  away,  and  the  invahd  warrior  has  nothing  to  live 
on  but  a  beggar's  pittance  and  alms.  .  .  . 

"  In  a  world  in  which  men  run  about  like  trained 
animals  and  are  not  capable  of  any  other  idea  than  that 
of  outwitting  one  another  for  the  sake  of  mammon,  I 
may  be  considered  an  odd  person,  but  I  none  the  less  feel 
in  myself  the  divine  idea  of  peace,  which  is  so  beautifully 
expressed  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  According  to 
my  innermost  conviction  war  is  nothing  but  commerce 
on  a  large  scale,  —  a  commerce  of  the  ambitious  and 
mighty  in  the  happiness  of  the  nations. 

"  What  horrors  one  passes  through  in  connection  with 
it !  I  shall  never  forget  them,  those  pitiful  groans,  which 
penetrate  me  to  the  marrow  of  my  bones. 

"  Men  who  have  never  done  any  evil  to  one  another 
slay  one  another  like  wild  animals,  and  petty  souls  of 
slaves  draw  the  good  God  into  it  as  an  accomplice  in 
these  acts. 

"  My  neighbour  in  the  ranks  had  his  jaws  shattered  by 
a  bullet.  The  unfortunate  man  was  insane  from  pain. 
He  ran  about  like  a  madman,  and  in  the  burning  summer 
heat  was  unable  to  find  some  water  with  which  to  cool 


162  PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT 

his  terrible  wound.  Our  commander,  Crown  Prince  Fred- 
erick (later  the  noble  Emperor  Frederick)  at  that  time 
wrote  in  his  diary,  '  War  is  an  irony  on  the  Gospel.'  .  ,  ," 
Men  are  beginning  to  understand  the  deception  of 
patriotism,  in  which  all  the  governments  are  trying  so 
zealously  to  maintain  them. 

8 

"But  what  will  happen  when  there  shall  be  no  more 
governments  ? "  people  generally  ask. 

There  will  be  nothing ;  what  will  happen  will  be  this, 
that  which  long  ago  ceased  to  be  useful  and  now  is  super- 
fluous and  bad  will  be  destroyed ;  what  will  be  destroyed 
is  the  organ  which,  having  become  useless,  has  grown  to 
be  harmful. 

"  But  if  there  shall  be  no  governments,  people  will 
violate  and  kill  one  another,"  people  generally  say. 

Why  ?  Why  will  the  abolition  of  an  organization, 
which  arose  as  the  result  of  violence  and  w^hich  has  been 
transmitted  from  generation  to  generation  for  the  purpose 
of  exerting  violence,  —  why  will  the  abolition  of  such  an 
obsolete  organization  cause  people  to  violate  and  kill  one 
another  ?  It  would  seem,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  de- 
struction of  the  organ  of  violence  would  have  the  effect 
that  people  would  stop  practising  violence  and  killing  one 
another. 

There  now  are  people  who  are  specially  educated  and 
prepared  for  killing  and  violating  men,  —  people  to  whom 
the  right  to  commit  acts  of  violence  is  delegated,  and  who 
make  use  of  an  organization  which  is  established  for  the 
purpose ;  and  such  violence  and  murder  is  considered  to 
be  a  good  and  virtuous  act.  Then  people  will  not  be  edu- 
cated for  the  purpose,  no  one  will  have  the  right  to  do 
violence  to  others,  there  will  be  no  organization  of  vio- 
lence, and,  as  is  not  the  case  with  the  men  of  our  time. 


PATEIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT  163 

violence  and  murder  will  always  and  by  all  men  be  con- 
sidered to  be  a  bad  tbing. 

If  after  tbe  destruction  of  the  governments  acts  of 
violence  shall  be  committed,  it  is  evident  that  they  will 
be  less  than  those  at  the  present  time,  when  there  exist 
organizations  specially  established  for  the  production  of 
violence,  and  when  there  are  conditions  when  violence 
and  murder  are  considered  good  and  useful. 

The  abolition  of  the  governments  will  only  destroy  the 
traditional,  useless  organization  of  violence  and  its  justifi- 
cation. 

"  There  will  be  no  laws,  no  property,  no  courts,  no 
pohce,  no  popular  education,"  people  generally  say,  inten- 
tionally confusing  the  violence  of  the  power  with  the 
different  activities  of  society. 

The  abolition  of  the  organization  of  governments,  which 
are  established  for  the  purpose  of  exerting  violence  against 
people,  does  not  bring  with  it  the  destruction  of  what  is 
rational  and  good,  and  so  what  is  non-violating  in  the 
laws,  the  courts,  the  property,  the  police  defence,  the  finan- 
cial institutions,  the  popular  education.  On  the  contrary, 
the  absence  of  the  rude  power  of  the  governments,  whose 
only  purpose  is  to  support  themselves,  will  contribute  to  a 
more  rational  and  just  public  organization,  which  is  in  no 
need  of  violence.  Courts,  public  affairs,  and  popular  edu- 
cation, all  that  will  exist  to  the  extent  to  which  the 
nations  shall  need  them,  and  in  a  form  which  will  not 
contain  any  evil  that  is  connected  with  the  present 
governmental  organization ;  only  that  will  be  destroyed 
which  was  bad  and  interfered  with  the  free  manifestation 
of  the  will  of  the  nations. 

But  even  if  we  admit  that  with  the  absence  of  the  gov- 
ernments there  will  occur  disturbances  and  inner  conflicts, 
the  state  of  affairs  would  even  in  that  case  be  better  than 
what  it  is  now.  The  present  condition  of  the  nations  is 
such  that  it  is  liard  to  imagine  it  worse.     The  masses  are 


164  PATRIOTISM   AND    GOVERNMENT 

all  ruined,  and  the  ruin  must  inevitably  keep  growing 
greater.  All  the  men  are  turned  into  military  slaves  and 
must  at  any  moment  await  the  command  to  go  out 
and  kill  and  be  killed.  For  what  else  shall  they  wait  ? 
That  the  ruined  nations  shall  starve  to  death  ?  That,  in- 
deed, is  now  taking  place  in  Eussia,  Italy,  and  India.  Or 
that  not  only  the  men,  but  also  the  women  shall  be 
drafted  into  the  army  ?  In  the  Transvaal  they  are  begin- 
ning to  do  so. 

Thus,  even  if  the  absence  of  government  should  actually 
mean  anarchy  in  the  negative,  disorderly  sense  of  the  word 
(which  it  does  not  at  all  mean),  no  disorders  of  anarchy 
could  be  worse  than  the  condition  to  which  the  govern- 
ments have  already  brought  their  nations  and  toward 
which  they  are  leading  them. 

And  so  the  liberation  from  patriotism  and  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  despotism  of  the  governments  which  is  based 
upon  it  cannot  help  but  be  useful  to  people. 


Bethink  yourselves,  people,  and,  for  the  sake  of  your 
bodily  and  spiritual  good,  and  for  the  same  good  of 
your  brothers  and  sisters,  stop,  think,  reflect  on  what  you 
are  doing ! 

Bethink  yourselves  and  understand  that  not  the  Boers, 
English,  French,  Germans,  Bohemians,  Finns,  Russians 
are  your  enemies,  but  that  the  only  enemies  are  you  your- 
selves, who  with  your  patriotism  support  the  governments, 
which  oppress  you  and  cause  your  misfortunes. 

They  undertook  to  defend  you  against  dangers,  and 
have  carried  this  condition  of  defence  to  such  an  extent 
that  you  have  all  become  soldiers  and  slaves,  that  you  are 
all  ruined,  that  you  are  being  ruined  more  and  more,  and 
may  and  must  expect  at  any  moment  the  breaking  of  the 


PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT  165 

strained  string  and  the  terrible  slaughter  of  you  and  your 
children. 

No  matter  how  great  the  slaughter  may  be  and  how  it 
may  eud,  the  condition  will  remain  the  same.  Even  so 
and  with  still  greater  tension  will  the  governments  arm 
and  destroy  and  corrupt  you  and  your  children,  and  no 
one  will  help  you  to  stop  it  all,  if  you  are  not  going 
to  help  yourselves. 

There  is  but  one  help,  and  that  is  to  destroy  that  ter- 
rible concatenation  of  the  cone  of  violence,  with  which 
those  who  succeed  in  getting  to  the  apex  of  the  cone 
dominate  the  whole  nation,  and  dominate  the  more 
surely,  the  more  cruel  and  inhuman  they  are,  as  we  know 
from  the  case  of  Napoleon,  Nicholas  I.,  Bismarck,  Cham- 
berlain, Rhodes,  and  our  dictators  who  rule  the  nation  in 
the  name  of  the  Tsar. 

There  is  but  one  means  for  destroying  this  concatena- 
tion, and  that  is,  to  awaken  from  the  hypnosis  of  patriot- 
ism. 

You  must  understand  that  all  the  evil  from  which  you 
suffer  you  are  causing  yourselves,  in  that  you  submit  to 
those  suggestions  by  means  of  which  you  are  deceived  by 
the  emperors,  kings,  members  of  parliaments,  rulers,  mili- 
tary men,  capitalists,  clergy,  authors,  artists,  —  by  all  those 
who  need  this  deception  of  patriotism  in  order  to  be  able 
to  live  by  your  labours. 

Whoever  you  may  be,  —  a  Frenchman,  Paissian,  Pole, 
Englishman,  Irishman,  German,  Bohemian,  —  you  must 
understand  that  all  our  real  human  interests,  whatever 
they  be,  —  agricultural,  industrial,  commercial,  artistic,  or 
scientific,  —  all  these  interests,  like  all  the  pleasures  and 
joys,  in  no  way  oppose  the  interests  of  the  other  nations 
and  states,  and  that  you  are,  by  means  of  a  mutual  inter- 
action, exchange  of  services,  the  joy  of  a  broad  brotherly 
communion,  of  an  exchange  not  only  of  wares,  but  also 
of  sentiments,  united  with  the  men  of  the  other  nations. 


166  PATRIOTISM    AND    GOVERNMENT 

You  must  understand  that  the  questions  as  to  who  suc- 
ceeds in  seizing  Wei-hai-wei,  Port  Arthur,  or  Cuba  — 
whether  it  is  your  government  or  another  —  are  by  no 
means  a  matter  of  indifference  to  you,  but  that  every 
seizure  made  by  your  government  is  detrimental  to  you, 
because  it  inevitably  brings  with  it  all  kinds  of  influences, 
which  your  government  will  exert  against  you,  in  order 
to  compel  you  to  take  part  in  robberies  and  acts  of  vio- 
lence, which  are  necessary  for  the  seizures  and  for  the 
retention  of  what  has  been  seized.  You  must  understand 
that  your  life  can  in  no  way  be  improved  by  this,  that 
Alsace  will  be  German  or  French,  and  that  Ireland  and 
Poland  are  free  or  enslaved :  no  matter  whose  they  may 
be,  you  can  live  wherever  you  please ;  even  if  you  were 
an  Alsatian,  an  Irishman,  or  a  Pole,  —  you  must  under- 
stand that  every  fanning  of  patriotism  will  only  make 
your  position  worse,  because  the  enslavement  of  your 
nation  has  resulted  only  from  the  struggle  of  patriotisms, 
and  that  every  manifestation  of  patriotism  in  one  nation 
increases  the  reaction  against  it  in  another.  You  must 
understand  that  you  can  save  yourselves  from  all  your 
calamities  only  when  you  free  yourselves  from  the  obso- 
lete idea  of  patriotism  and  from  the  obedience  to  the 
governments  which  is  based  upon  it,  and  when  you  shall 
boldly  enter  into  the  sphere  of  that  higher  idea  of  the 
brotherly  union  of  the  nations,  which  has  long  ago  entered 
into  life  and  is  calling  you  to  itself  from  all  sides. 

Let  men  understand  that  they  are  not  the  sons  of  any 
countries  or  governments,  but  the  sons  of  God,  and  that, 
therefore,  they  cannot  be  slaves,  nor  enemies  of  other  men, 
and  all  those  senseless,  now  quite  useless,  pernicious 
institutions,  bequeathed  by  antiquity,  which  are  called 
governments,  and  all  those  sufferings,  acts  of  violence, 
degradations,  crimes,  wliicli  they  bring  with  them,  will 
disappear  of  their  own  accord. 

Firogovo,  May  10,  1900. 


"THOU    SHALT    NOT    KILL" 

1900 


"THOU  SHALT   NOT   KILL" 


Thou  Shalt  not  kill  (Ex.  xx.  13). 

The  disciple  is  not  above  his  master  ;  but  every  one  that 
is  perfect  shall  be  as  his  master  (Luke  vi.  40). 

For  all  they  that  take  the  sword  shall  perish  with  the 
sword  (Matt.  xxvi.  52). 

Therefore  all  the  things  whatsoever  ye  would  that  men 
should  do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so  to  them  (Matt.  vii.  12). 

When  kings,  like  Charles  I.,  Louis  XVI.,  or  Maximilian 
of  Mexico,  are  sentenced  to  death,  or  when  they  are  killed 
in  court  revolutions,  as  were  Peter  III.,  Paul,  and  all 
kinds  of  sultans,  shahs,  and  khans,  there  is  generally  a 
silence  on  the  subject ;  but  when  they  are  killed  without 
a  trial  and  without  court  revolutions,  as  was  the  case  with 
Henry  IV.,  Alexander  II.,  the  Empress  of  Austria,  the 
Shah  of  Persia,  and  now  Humbert,  such  murders  rouse 
the  greatest  indignation  and  amazement  among  kings, 
emperors,  and  their  retinues,  as  though  these  men  did  not 
take  part  in  murders,  did  not  make  use  of  them,  did  not 
prescribe  them.  And  yet,  the  very  best  of  the  kings 
slain,  such  as  Alexander  II.  and  Humbert,  were  the 
authors,  participants,  and  accomplices  —  to  say  nothing 
of  domestic  executions  —  in  the  murder  of  tens  of  thou- 
sands of  men,  who  died  on  fields  of  battle ;  while  bad 
kings  and  emperors  have  been  the  authors  of  hundreds  of 
thousands,  of  millions,  of  murders. 

Christ's  teaching  has  taken  the  place  of  the  law,  "  An 
eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,"  but  those  men 

169 


170  "  THOU    SHALT    NOT    KILL  " 

who  have  always  kept  that  law,  aud  eveu  now  keep  it, 
and  apply  it  in  terrific  proportions  in  their  punishments 
aud  in  wars,  and,  in  addition  to  "  an  eye  for  an  eye," 
without  any  provocation  command  men  to  kill  thousands, 
as  they  do  when  they  declare  war,  have  no  right  to  be 
provoked  at  the  application  to  them  of  this  law  in  such  a 
small  and  insignificant  measure,  that  hardly  one  king  or 
emperor  is  killed  to  one  hundred  thousand  or,  perhaps, 
one  million  of  those  killed  by  command  and  with  the  con- 
sent of  kings  and  emperors.  Kings  and  emperors  not 
only  need  not  be  provoked  at  such  murders  as  those  of 
Alexander  II.  and  Humbert,  but  should  only  marvel  how 
rare  such  murders  are  after  the  constant  and  universal 
example  of  murder  which  they  give  to  men. 

The  men  of  the  masses  are  so  hypnotized  that  they  see 
and  do  not  understand  the  significance  of  what  is  con- 
stantly done  to  them.  They  see  the  constant  cares  of  the 
kings,  emperors,  presidents,  about  the  disciplined  army, 
they  see  those  inspections,  manoeuvres,  parades,  which 
they  practise  and  which  they  boast  of  before  one  another, 
and  they  run  like  mad  to  see  their  brothers,  who  are 
dressed  up  in  -stupid,  variegated,  sparkling  uniforms,  by 
the  sound  of  drums  and  horns  transformed  into  machines 
and,  at  the  shout  of  one  man,  performing  in  a  body  the 
same  motions,  and  they  do  not  understand  what  it  means  ; 
but  the  meaning  of  tliis  instruction  is  very  simple  and 
clear :  it  is  nothing  but  a  preparation  for  murder. 

It  is  the  stultification  of  men,  in  order  to  make  of 
them  instruments  of  murder.  It  is  only  kings,  emperors, 
and  presidents  who  do  this,  manage  this,  and  pride  them- 
selves on  it.  And  it  is  these  men,  who  are  specially 
interested  in  murder,  who  have  made  a  profession  of 
murder,  who  always  wear  military  uniforms  and  instru- 
ments of  murder,  —  the  sword  at  their  side,  —  that  are 
terrified  and  provoked,  when  one  of  them  is  killed. 

The  murders  of  kings,  like  the  late  murder  of  Humbert, 


"  THOU    SHALT    NOT    KILL  '*  171 

are  not  terrible  ou  account  of  their  cruelty.  The  acts 
committed  by  order  of  kings  and  emperors  —  not  only 
in  the  past,  as  the  Night  of  Bartholomew,  the  massacres 
for  the  sake  of  faith,  the  terrible  pacifications  of  peasant 
risings,  the  Versailles  slaughters,  but  also  the  present 
governmental  executions,  the  starvations  in  sohtary  cells 
and  disciplinary  battalions,  the  hangings,  the  chopping  off 
of  heads,  the  shooting,  and  the  slaughters  in  war  —  are 
incomparably  more  cruel  than  the  murders  committed  by 
the  anarchists.  Nor  are  these  murders  terrible  on  account 
of  not  having  been  deserved.  If  Alexander  II.  and  Hum- 
bert did  not  deserve  to  be  killed,  how  much  less  deserved 
to  be  killed  those  thousands  of  Eussians  who  perished  at 
Plevna,  and  of  Italians  w^ho  perished  in  Abyssinia.  Such 
murders  are  not  terrible  on  account  of  their  cruelty  or 
the  innocence  of  the  murdered,  but  on  account  of  the 
senselessness  of  those  who  commit  them. 

If  the  murderers  of  the  kings  do  that  under  the  influ- 
ence of  a  personal  sentiment  of  indignation,  provoked  by 
the  sufferings  of  an  enslaved  nation,  as  the  authors  of 
which  to  them  appear  Alexander,  Caruot,  Humbert,  or 
under  the  influence  of  a  personal  feeling  of  revenge,  such 
acts,  however  immoral,  are  comprehensible ;  but  how  is 
it  that  an  organization  of  men  —  of  the  anarchists, 
as  they  now  say  —  which  sent  Bressi  out,  and  which  is 
threatening  another  emperor,  has  not  been  able  to  invent 
anything  better  for  the  amelioration  of  men's  condition 
than  the  murder  of  those  men  whose  annihilation  can  be 
as  useful  as  the  cutting  off  of  the  head  of  that  fabulous 
monster,  when  in  place  of  the  one  cut  off  there  imme- 
diately grew  out  a  new  one  ?  Kings  and  emperors  have 
long  ago  arranged  things  in  the  same  manner  as  in  a 
magazine  rifle :  the  moment  one  bullet  flies  out,  another 
takes  its  place,  —  le  roi  est  mort,  vive  le  roi  !  So  what 
sense  is  there  in  kilhng  them  ? 

Only  after  a  most  superficial  reflection  can  the  murder 


172  "thou   SHALT   NOT   KILL 


» 


of  these  men  appear  as  a  means  for  saving  the  people  from 
oppression  and  from  wars,  which  cause  the  ruin  of  hu- 
man hves. 

We  need  only  recall  that  such  oppressions  and  such 
wars  have  always  existed,  independently  of  who  was  at 
the  head  of  the  governments,  —  whether  it  was  Nicholas 
or  Alexander,  Frederick  or  William,  Napoleon  or  Louis, 
Palmerston  or  Gladstone,  McKinley  or  anybody  else, — 
to  understand  that  it  is  not  any  definite  class  of  men  who 
cause  these  oppressions  and  wars  from  which  the  nations 
suffer.  The  calamities  of  men  are  not  due  to  separate 
individuals,  but  to  such  a  structure  of  society  that  all 
men  are  united  among  themselves  in  such  a  way  that 
all  are  in  the  power  of  a  few  men  (or,  more  frequently. 
of  one  man),  who  are  so  corrupted  by  this,  their  unnatural 
position  of  deciding  the  fate  and  lives  of  millions  of  men, 
that  they  are  all  the  time  in  a  morbid  state,  all  the  time 
obsessed  by  a  mania  of  greatness,  which  is  imperceptible 
in  them  only  in  consequence  of  their  exclusive  position. 

In  the  first  place,  these  men  are  from  their  earliest 
childhood  and  up  to  their  death  surrounded  by  the  most 
senseless  luxury  and  are  all  the  time  surrounded  by  an 
atmosphere  of  lying  and  servility ;  their  whole  education, 
all  their  occupations,  everything  is  centred  in  one  thing, 
in 'the  study  of  former  murders,  of  the  best  methods  of 
killing  in  our  time,  of  the  best  preparations  for  murder. 
From  earhest  childhood  they  are  taught  every  possible 
way  of  killing,  and  they  always  carry  about  them  instru- 
ments of  murder,  swords  and  sabres,  and  are  dressed  up 
in  all  kinds  of  uniforms,  order  parades,  inspections,  ma- 
noeuvres, visit  one  another,  presenting  decorations  and 
regiments  to  one  another,  and  not  only  is  there  not  a 
single  man  to  name  what  they  are  doing  by  its  real  name, 
to  tell  them  that  the  occupation  with  preparations  for 
murder  is  detestable  and  criminal,  but  from  all  sides 
they  hear  nothing  but  approval,  nothing  but  transports  in 


"thou   SHALT   NOT   KILL "  173 

consequence  of  this  their  activity.  At  every  appearance 
of  theirs  in  public,  at  every  parade  and  inspection,  a 
crowd  of  people  runs  after  them,  greeting  them  ecstati- 
cally, and  it  seems  to  them  that  it  is  the  whole  nation 
that  is  expressing  its  approval  of  their  activity.  That 
part  of  the  press  wliich  they  see,  and  which  to  them 
appears  as  the  expression  of  the  sentiments  of  the  whole 
nation  or  of  its  best  representatives,  in  the  most  servile 
manner  proclaims  all  their  words  and  acts,  no  matter  how 
stupid  and  bad  they  may  be.  The  men  and  women  about 
them,  both  clerical  and  lay,  —  all  of  them  men  who  do 
not  esteem  human  dignity,  —  in  their  attempt  to  outstrip 
one  another  in  refined  flattery,  are  subservient  to  them  in 
everything  and  in  everything  deceive  them,  giving  them 
no  chance  to  see  real  life.  These  men  may  live  a  hundred 
years  without  seeing  a  real  free  man  and  without  ever 
hearing  the  truth.  One  is  often  frightened,  hearing  the 
words  and  seeing  the  acts  of  these  men ;  but  we  need 
only  consider  their  situation,  to  understand  that  any  man 
would  act  similarly  in  their  place.  A  sensible  man, 
upon  finding  himself  in  their  place,  can  do  but  one  sen- 
sible thing,  and  that  is,  get  out  of  that  situation :  if  he 
remains  in  it,  he  will  do  the  same. 

Indeed,  what  must  be  going  on  in  the  head  of  the 
German  William,  a  narrow-minded,  half-educated,  vain- 
glorious man,  with  the  ideal  of  a  German  Junker,  w^hen 
there  is  not  a  stupid  and  abominable  utterance  by  him 
which  is  not  met  by  an  ecstatic  "  Hoch ! "  and  is  not 
commented  upon  by  the  whole  press  of  Europe  as  some- 
thing extremely  significant.  Let  him  say  that  the  soldiers 
must  by  his  will  kill  even  their  own  fathers,  and  they 
shout  "  Hurrah  '  "  Let  him  say  that  the  Gospel  ought  to 
be  introduced  with  the  iron  fist,  —  "  Hurrah !  "  Let  him 
say  that  in  China  the  army  must  not  make  any  captives, 
but  must  kill  all  men,  and  he  is  not  put  into  a  lunatic 
asylum,  but  they  shout  "  Hurrah ! "  and  sail  for  Cliina  to 


174  "thou    SHALT   NOT    KILL" 

execute  his  command.  Or  the  naturally  meek  Nicholas 
II.  begins  his  reign  by  announcing  to  respectable  old 
men,  in  reply  to  their  expressed  desire  to  dehberate  on 
their  affairs,  that  self-government  is  a  senseless  dream, 
and  the  organs  of  the  press,  the  men  whom  he  sees,  extol 
him  for  it.  He  proposes  a  childish,  stupid,  and  deceptive 
project  of  a  universal  peace,  and  at  the  same  time  makes 
preparations  for  increasing  his  army,  and  there  is  no  limit 
to  the  laudations  of  his  wisdom  and  virtue.  Without  any 
necessity,  senselessly,  and  pitilessly  he  torments  a  whole 
nation,  the  Finns,  and  again  he  hears  nothing  but  approval. 
He  finally  causes  the  Chinese  slaughter,  which  is  terrible 
for  its  injustice,  cruelty,  and  incompatibility  with  the 
project  of  peace,  and  all  people,  on  all  sides,  laud  him  simul- 
taneously for  his  victories  and  for  the  continuation  of  his 
father's  peaceful  policy. 

Indeed,  what  must  be  going  on  in  the  heads  and  hearts 
of  these  men  ? 

Thus  it  is  not  Alexander,  Humbert,  William,  Nicholas, 
and  Chamberlain,  who  guide  the  oppressions  and  wars  of 
the  nations,  that  are  the  authors  of  the  oppressions  of  the 
masses  and  the  murders  in  wars,  but  those  who' have  put 
them  in  the  positions  of  rulers  over  the  lives  of  men,  and 
support  them  in  these  positions.  And  so  Alexander, 
Nicholas,  William,  Humbert,  are  not  to  be  killed,  but  men 
are  to  stop  supporting  the  order  of  society  which  produces 
them.  What  supports  the  present  order  of  society  is  the 
egotism  and  stupidity  of  men  who  sell  their  freedom  and 
honour  for  their  insignificant  material  advantages. 

The  men  who  stand  on  the  lower  rungs  of  the  lad- 
der, partly  in  consequence  of  their  stultification  by  their 
patriotic  and  pseudo-religious  education,  surrender  their 
freedom  and  feeling  of  human  dignity  in  favour  of  the 
men  who  stand  above  them  and  who  offer  them  material 
advantages.  In  the  same  condition  are  the  men  who 
stand   on   a   somewhat   higher  rung   of   the  ladder,  and 


"  THOU    SHALT    NOT    KILL  "  175 

who,  also  in  consequence  of  their  stultification  and  per- 
sonal advantage,  surrender  their  freedom  and  human 
chgnity ;  the  same  is  true  of  those  who  stand  still  higher, 
and  thus  it  goes  on  to  the  highest  rungs,  —  to  those 
persons,  or  to  that  one  person,  who  stands  at  the  apex  of 
the  coue  and  who  has  nothing  to  acquire,  whose  only 
motive  for  action  is  love  of  power  and  vainglory,  and  who 
is  generally  so  corrupted  and  stultified  by  the  power  over 
the  Ufe  and  death  of  men  and  the  flattery  which  is 
connected  with  it  and  the  servility  of  those  who  surround 
him,  that,  ^\ithout  ceasing  to  do  evil,  he  is  fully  convinced 
that  he  is  benefiting  humanity. 

The  nations,  by  themselves  sacrificing  their  human 
dignity  for  their  own  advantage,  produce  these  men,  who 
cannot  do  anything  else  but  what  they  are  doing,  and 
then  the  nations  are  angry  at  them  for  their  stupid 
and  evil  deeds.  To  kill  these  men  is  the  same  as  spoiling 
children  and  then  whipping  them. 

To  have  no  oppressions  of  the  nations  and  no  uimeces- 
sary  wars,  and  for  no  one  to  be  provoked  at  those  who 
seem  to  be  the  authors  of  them  and  to  kill  them,  very 
little,  it  would  seem,  would  suffice,  namely,  that  men 
should  merely  understand  things  as  they  are,  and  should 
call  them  by  their  real  names,  should  know  that  the  army 
is  an  instrument  of  murder,  and  that  the  levy  and  main- 
tenance of  the  army  —  precisely  what  the  kings,  emperors, 
and  presidents  are  concerned  about  with  so  much  self- 
assurance  —  is  a  preparation  for  murder. 

If  only  every  king,  emperor,  and  president  understood 
that  his  duty  of  managing  the  army  is  neither  honourable 
nor  important,  as  he  is  made  to  believe  by  his  flatterers, 
but  a  bad  and  disgraceful  work  of  preparing  for  murder ; 
and  if  every  private  person  understood  that  the  payment 
of  taxes,  with  which  soldiers  are  hired  and  armed,  and 
much  more  enlistment  in  the  .army,  are  not  indifferent 
acts,  but  bad,  disgraceful  acts,  not  only  an  abetment  of, 


176  "thou    SHALT   NOT    KILL 


>» 


but  even  a  participation  in  murder,  —  then  the  provoking 
power  of  the  emperors,  presidents,  and  kings,  for  which 
they  are  now  killed,  would  die  of  its  own  accord. 

So  we  must  not  kill  an  Alexander,  a  Carnot,  a  Humbert, 
and  others,  but  must  explain  to  them  that  they  them- 
selves are  murderers,  and,  above  all,  we  must  not  permit 
them  to  kill  people,  we  must  refuse  to  kill  by  their 
command. 

If  men  are  not  yet  doing  so,  this  is  due  only  to  the 
hypnosis  in  which  the  governments  carefully  maintain 
them  from  a  feeling  of  self-preservation.  And  so  it  is  not 
with  murders  that  we  can  contribute  to  this,  that  men 
may  stop  killing  kings  and  one  another,  —  the  murders, 
on  the  contrary,  intensify  the  hypnosis,  —  but  with  an 
awakening  from  the  hypnosis. 

That  is  precisely  what  I  am  attempting  to  bring  about 
with  this  note. 

August  8, 1900. 


WHERE   IS   THE  WAY   OUT? 

1900 


WHERE   IS   THE   WAY   OUT? 


ON   THE   CONDITION    OF   THE   LABOURING 

CLASSES 


A  BOY  is  born  in  the  country ;  he  grows  up  and  works 
with  his  father,  his  grandfather,  his  mother. 

And  the  boy  sees  that  from  the  field  which  he  ploughed, 
harrowed,  and  seeded  with  his  father,  which  his  mother 
and  the  girl  cut  with  the  sickle  and  harvested,  the  sheaves 
which  he  himself  pulled  down  from  the  rick,  to  help 
his  mother,  —  the  boy  sees  that  his  father  does  not  take 
the  first  ricks  to  his  own  house,  but,  past  the  garden, 
to  the  threshing-floor  of  the  landed  proprietor.  Driving 
with  the  squeaky  wagon,  which  he  and  his  father  had 
themselves  fastened  with  ropes,  past  the  manor,  the  boy 
sees  on  the  balcony  a  dressed-up  lady  sitting  near  a  shin- 
ing samovar  at  a  table,  which  is  covered  with  dishes, 
pastry,  and  sweets,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  in 
a  cleared  space,  the  proprietor's  two  boys,  in  embroidered 
shirts  and  shining  boots,  playing  ball. 

One  boy  throws  the  ball  over  the  wagon. 

"  Pick  it  up,  boy  !  "  he  shouts. 

"  Pick  it  up,  Vaska !  "  Vaska's  father,  walking  beside 
the  wagon,  with  the  reins  in  his  hand,  and  taking  off  his 
hat,  cries  out  to  his  son. 

179 


180  WHERE    IS    THE    WAY    OUT? 

"  What  is  this  ? "  thinks  the  boy.  "  I  am  worn  out 
from  work,  and  they  play,  and  I  am  to  pick  up  their  ball." 

But  he  picks  up  the  ball,  and  the  young  lord,  without" 
looking  at  the  boy,  takes  the  ball  with  his  white  hand  out 
of  the  sunburnt  black  hand  of  the  boy,  and  goes  back  to 
his  game. 

The  father  has  walked  on  with  the  wagon.  The  boy 
catches  up  with  him  on  a  run,  shuffling  his  tattered  low 
boots  in  the  dust  of  the  road,  and  they  drive  into  the 
manorial  threshing-floor,  which  is  full  of  wagons  with 
sheaves.  The  busy  steward,  in  linen  frock  coat,  which  is 
wet  from  perspiration  in  the  back,  and  with  a  rod  in  his 
hand,  meets  the  boy's  father,  whom  he  scolds  for  not  hav- 
ing driven  to  the  right  spot.  His  father  makes  excuses, 
walks  as  though  fatigued,  jerks  the  tired  horse  by  the 
rein,  and  drives  the  wagon  on  the  other  side. 

The  boy  goes  up  to  his  father  and  asks : 

"  Father,  why  do  we  take  our  rye  to  him  ?  We  har- 
vested it  ? " 

"  Because  the  land  is  theirs,"  the  father  answers,  angrily. 

"  Who  gave  them  the  land  ? " 

"  Ask  the  steward.  He  will  show  you  who.  Do  you 
see  their  rod  ?  " 

"  Where  will  they  put  all  this  corn  ? " 

"  They  will  thresh  it,  and  then  they  will  sell  it." 

"  And  what  will  they  do  with  the  money  ? " 

"  They  will  buy  those  cakes  that  you  saw  on  the  table 
as  we  drove  by." 

The  boy  grows  silent  and  falls  to  musing.  But  he  has 
no  time  for  that.  They  are  shouting  to  his  father  to 
move  the  wagon  closer  to  the  barn.  The  father  moves 
the  wagon,  climbs  upon  it,  and,  having  with  difficulty 
loosened  the  ropes,  straining  his  rupture  more  and  more, 
throws  the  sheaves  into  the  mow,  while  the  boy  holds  the 
old  mare,  which  he  has  for  two  years  been  driving  to 
pasture,  keeping  the  flies  away   from  her,  as  his  father 


WHERE    IS    TUE    WAY    OUT  ?  181 

commands  him  to  do.  He  thinks  and  thinks,  and  can- 
not understand  why  the  land  does  not  belong  to  those 
who  work  upon  it,  but  to  those  sous  of  the  lord,  who  in 
embroidered  shirts  play  ball  and  drink  tea  and  eat  cakes. 

The  boy  continues  to  think  about  it  at  work,  and  when 
he  goes  to  bed,  and  when  he  pastures  the  horses,  —  and 
can  find  no  answer  for  it.  All  say  that  it  must  be  so,  and 
all  hve  in  that  manner. 

And  the  boy  grows  up,  and  he  is  married  off,  and  chil- 
dren are  born  to  him,  and  his  children  ask  the  same  ques- 
tion of  him,  and  he  answers  them  in  the  same  way  that 
his  father  answered  him.  And,  living  like  him  in  want, 
he  works  submissively  for  other,  idle  people. 

And  thus  he  lives,  and  thus  hve  all  around  Mm. 
Wherever  he  may  go  or  travel,  —  so  a  pilgrim  tells  him, 
—  it  is  the  same.  Everywhere  peasants  work  above  their 
strength  for  other,  idle  people,  by  overwork  get  ruptures, 
asthma,  consumption,  take  to  drinking  from  grief,  and  die 
before  their  time ;  the  women  exhaust  their  last  strength 
in  cooking,  attending  to  the  cattle,  washing  for  the  peas- 
ants, and  making  their  clothes,  and  also  age  before  their 
time,  and  waste  away  from  overwork  and  untimely  labour. 

And  everywhere  those  they  work  for  provide  them- 
selves with  buggies,  carriages,  trotters,  horses,  build  ar- 
bours, arrange  games,  and  from  Easter  to  Easter,  from 
morning  until  evening,  dress  themselves  up  as  for  a  holi- 
day, play  and  eat  and  drink  every  day  as  even  on  the 
greatest  holiday  is  not  the  case  with  him  who  works  for 
them. 

2 

Why  is  that  so  ? 

The  first  answer  which  presents  itself  to  the  labouring 
farmer  is  this,  that  it  is  so,  because  the  land  was  taken 
from  him  and  was  given  to  those  who  do  not  work  it. 
He  and  his  family  have  to  eat,  but  the  working  peasant 


182  WHERE    IS    THE    WAY    OUT? 

has  either  no  land  at  all,  or  so  little  of  it  that  it  will  not 
support  his  family.  Thus  he  must  starve  or  else  take 
the  land  which  is  not  far  from  the  farms,  but  which 
does  not  belong  to  those  who  work ;  he  has  to  take 
the  land,  agreeing  to  those  conditions  which  are  offered 
to  him. 

At  first  it  seems  to  be  so,  but  that  is  not  all  of  it; 
there  are  peasants  who  have  enough  land,  and  who  may 
be  able  to  support  themselves  by  it. 

But  it  turns  out  that  even  such  peasants,  all  of  them 
or  a  part,  again  sell  themselves  into  slavery.  Why  is 
that  so  ?  Because  the  peasants  have  to  buy  for  money 
ploughshares,  scythes,  horseshoes,  materials  for  buUdings, 
kerosene,  tea,  sugar,  liquor,  ropes,  salt,  matches,  cottons, 
tobacco ;  but  the  money  which  a  peasant  earns  by  the  sale 
of  his  products  is  all  the  time  taken  away  from  him 
in  the  form  of  direct  and  indirect  imposts,  and  the  price 
of  those  articles  which  he  needs  is  raised.  Thus  the 
majority  of  the  peasants  are  unable  to  provide  themselves 
with  the  necessary  money  except  by  selling  themselves 
into  slavery  to  those  who  have  the  money. 

This  the  peasants  and  their  wives  and  daughters  do. 
Some  sell  themselves  in  their  neighbourhood ;  others  sell 
themselves  a  distance  away,  in  the  capitals,  —  hiring 
themselves  out  as  lackeys,  coachmen,  nurses,  wet-nurses, 
chambermaids,  bath  servants,  waiters,  and,  above  all,  as 
factory  hands,  going  to  the  cities  by  whole  families. 

Having  sold  themselves  into  these  occupations  in  the 
cities,  the  country  people  become  unaccustomed  to  farm 
labour  and  simplicity  of  life,  and  get  used  to  city  food, 
dress,  beverages,  and  through  these  habits  still  more  con- 
firm their  slavery. 

Thus  it  is  not  merely  the  lack  of  land  that  causes  the 
labouring  man  to  be  in  the  slavery  of  the  rich ;  the  cause 
of  it  is  also  to  be  found  in  the  taxes,  the  raised  price  of 
commodities,  and  the  luxurious  city  habite,  which    the 


WHERE    IS    THE    WAY    OUT  ?  183 

country  workers  get  used  to,  when  they  go  away  from 
their  villages. 

The  slavery  began  with  the  land,  with  the  land  being 
taken  away  from  the  workers,  but  this  slavery  has  been 
strengthened  and  confirmed  by  this,  that  the  country 
people  have  become  unaccustomed  to  labour  and  have 
become  used  to  city  luxury,  which  cannot  be  satisfied  in 
any  other  way  than  by  selling  themselves  into  slavery  to 
those  who  have  money  ;  and  this  slavery  is  growing  and 
becoming  more  and  more  confirmed. 

In  the  country  people  live  on  semi-starvation  rations, 
in  constant  labour  and  want,  enslaved  to  the  landowners ; 
in  the  cities,  in  the  factories  and  plants,  the  labourers 
live  in  slavery  to  the  manufacturers,  for  generations  phys- 
ically and  morally  corrupted  by  the  monotonous,  tedious, 
unhealthy  work,  which  is  not  proper  for  a  man.  And 
with  the  years  the  situation  of  either  class  of  men  is 
getting  worse  and  worse.  In  the  country  the  people  are 
getting  poorer  and  poorer,  because  an  ever  growing  num- 
ber of  people  are  going  to  the  factories.  In  the  cities  the 
people  are  not  getting  poorer,  but  seemingly  richer,  but 
at  the  same  time  more  and  more  incontinent,  and  more 
and  more  unable  to  do  any  other  work  than  the  kind 
they  are  used  to,  and  so  they  are  more  and  more  in  the 
power  of  the  manufacturers. 

Thus  the  power  of  the  landowners  and  the  manufactur- 
ers, of  the  rich  in  general,  is  getting  stronger  and  stronger, 
while  the  condition  of  the  labourers  is  getting  worse  and 
worse.  WhfNt,  then,  is  the  way  out  of  this  situation  ?  Is 
there  one  ? 


It  would  seem  that  the  hberation  from  the  slavery  of 
the  land  is  very  easy.  For  this  liberation  all  that  is 
needed  is  to  recognize  what  is  self-understood,  and  what 
people  would  never  have  doubted,  if  they  were  not  de- 


184  WHEKE    IS    THE    WAY    OUT? 

ceived,  namely,  that  every  man  born  has  the  right  to  gain 
his  sustenance  from  the  land,  just  as  every  man  has  a 
right  to  the  air  and  the  sun,  and  that,  therefore,  no  one 
who  does  not  work  the  land  has  the  right  to  regard  the 
laud  as  his  own  and  to  keep  others  from  working  it. 

But  the  government  will  never  permit  this  liberation 
from  the  slavery  of  the  land  to  take  place,  because  the 
majority  of  the  men  who  constitute  the  government  own 
lands,  and  upon  this  ownership  all  their  existence  is 
based. 

They  know  this,  and  so  they  try  with  all  their  forces 
to  hold  on  to  this  right,  and  defend  this  right. 

About  thirty  years  ago  Henry  George  proposed,  not 
only  a  rational,  but  a  very  practicable  project  for  the  eman- 
cipation of  the  land  from  ownership.  But  neither  in 
America  nor  in  England  (in  France  they  do  not  even 
speak  of  it)  was  this  project  accejjted,  and  they  tried  in 
every  way  to  overthrow  it;  but,  as  it  is  impossible  to 
overthrow  it,  they  passed  it  in  silence. 

If  this  project  has  not  been  accepted  in  America  and 
in  England,  there  is  still  less  hope  that  this  project  will 
be  accepted  in  monarchical  countries,  such  as  Germany, 
Austria,  or  Eussia. 

In  Eussia  vast  expanses  of  territory  have  been  seized 
by  private  individuals  and  by  the  Tsar  and  the  imperial 
family,  and  so  there  is  no  hope  that  these  men,  feehng 
themselves  as  helpless  without  the  right  to  the  land  as 
the  birdliugs  feel  without  their  nest,  will  give  up  their 
right  and  will  refrain  from  fighting  for  this  right  with  all 
their  strength.  And  so,  as  long  as  the  power  shall  be  on 
the  side  of  the  government,  which  is  composed  of  land- 
owners, there  will  be  no  emancipation  from  the  owner- 
ship of  the  land. 

Just  as  little,  and  even  less,  will  there  be  a  liberation 
from  the  taxes.  The  whole  government,  from,  the  head 
of  the  state,  the  Tsar,  down  to  the  last  poHceman,  lives 


WHERE    IS    THE    WAT    OUT?  185 

by  the  taxes.  And  so  the  abolition  of  the  taxes  by  the 
government  is  as  unthinkable  as  that  a  man  should  take 
from  himself  his  only  means  of  existence. 

It  is  true,  some  governments  seem  to  be  trying  to  re- 
lieve their  people  from  the  burden  of  the  taxes  by  trans- 
ferring them  to  the  income,  by  increasing  the  taxes  in 
accordance  with  the  income.  But  such  a  transference 
of  the  taxes  from  a  direct  levy  to  the  income  cannot 
deceive  the  masses,  because  the- rich,  that  is,  the  mer- 
chants, landowners,  and  capitalists  will,  in  proportion 
with  the  increase  of  the  taxes,  increase  the  price  of 
commodities  which  are  needed  by  the  labourers  and  the 
price  of  the  land,  and  will  lower  the  w^ages  of  labour. 
'  Thus  the  whole  burden  of  the  taxes  will  again  be  borne 
by  the  labourers. 

For  the  labourers  to  be  freed  from  the  slavery  which  is 
due  to  this,  that  the  implements  of  production  are  owned 
by  the  capitalists,  the  learned  have  proposed  a  whole 
series  of  measures,  in  consequence  of  which,  according  to 
their  assumption,  the  wages  of  the  labourers  are  to  increase 
all  the  time,  while  the  hours  of  labour  must  diminish,  and 
finally  all  the  implements  of  labour  have  to  pass  from  the 
possession  of  the  masters  into  the  hands  of  the  labourers, 
so  that  the  labourers,  possessing  all  the  factories  and 
plants,  will  not  be  compelled  to  give  up  a  part  of  their 
labours  to  the  capitalists,  but  will  have  for  their  labours 
the  necessary  commodities.  This  method  has  been  advo- 
cated in  Europe,  in  England,  France,  and  Germany,  for 
more  than  thirty  years,  but  so  far  tliere  has  not  only  been 
no  realization  of  this  method,  but  not  even  any  approach 
to  it. 

There  exist  labour  unions,  strikes  are  inaugurated,  by 
means  of  which  the  labourers  demand  fewer  working 
hours  and  greater  pay ;  but  since  the  governments,  who 
are  united  with  the  capitalists,  do  not  allow,  and  never 
wiU  allow,  the  implements  of   production  to  be  taken 


186  WHERE    IS    TUE    WAY    OUT? 

away  from  the  capitalists,  the  essence  of  the  matter  re- 
mains the  same. 

Receiving  better  pay  and  doing  less  work,  the  labour- 
ers increase  their  needs  and  so  remain  in  the  same  slavery 
to  the  capitalists. 

Thus  the  slavery  in  which  the  working  people  are  can 
obviously  not  be  destroyed  so  long  as  the  governments, 
in  the  first  place,  will  secure  the  ownership  of  land  to  the 
non- working  landowners  ;  in  the  second,  will  collect  direct 
and  indirect  taxes ;  in  the  third,  will  defend  the  property 
of  the  capitalists. 


The  slavery  of  the  working  people  is  due  to  this,  that 
there  are  governments.  But  if  the  slavery  of  the  labourers 
is  due  to  the  government,  the  emancipation  is  naturally 
conditioned  by  the  abolition  of  the  existing  governments 
and  the  estabhshment  of  new  governments,  —  such  as 
will  make  possible  the  liberation  of  the  land  from  owner- 
ship, the  abolition  of  taxes,  and  the  transference  of  the 
capital  and  the  factories  into  the  power  and  control  of 
the  working  people. 

There  are  men  who  recognize  this  issue  as  possible,  and 
who  are  preparing  themselves  for  it.  But  fortunately 
(since  such  an  action,  which  is  always  connected  with 
violence  and  murder,  is  immoral  and  ruinous  for  the  cause 
itself,  as  has  frequently  been  repeated  in  history)  such 
actions  are  impossible  in  our  time. 

The  time  has  long  ago  passed,  when  the  governments 
naively  believed  in  their  beneficent  destiny  for  humanity 
and  did  not  take  any  measures  for  securing  themselves 
against  rebelhons  (besides,  there  were  no  railways  and  no 
telegraphs  then),  and  they  were  easily  overthrown,  as  was 
the  case  in  England  in  1740,  in  France  during  the  great 
Revolution  and  later,  and  in  Germany  in  1848.  Since 
then  there  has  been  but  one  revolution,  in  1871,  and  that 


WHERE    IS    THE    WAY    OUT  ?  187 

one  happened  under  exceptional  conditions.  In  our  day- 
revolutions  and  the  overthrow  of  goveruments  are  simpl) 
impossible.  They  are  impossible,  because  in  our  time  the 
governments,  knowing  their  uselessness  and  harmfulness, 
and  that  in  our  time  no  one  beheves  in  their  sanctity,  are 
guided  by  nothing  but  a  feeling  of  self-preservation,  and, 
making  use  of  all  the  means  at  their  command,  are  con- 
stantly on  the  lookout  for  everything  which  may  not 
only  impair  their  power,  but  even  shake  it. 

Every  government  has  in  our  time  an  army  of  officials, 
which  is  connected  by  means  of  railways,  telegraphs,  tele- 
phones ;  it  has  fortresses  and  prisons  with  all  the  most 
modern  appliances,  —  photogi-aphy,  anthropometric  meas- 
urements, mines,  cannon,  guns,  all  the  most  perfect  instru- 
ments of  violence  that  can  be  had,  —  and  the  moment 
something  new  appears,  it  is  at  once  applied  to  purposes 
of  self-preservation.  There  is  the  organization  of  espion- 
age, a  venal  clergy,  venal  scholars  and  artists,  and  a  venal 
press.  Above  all  else,  every  government  has  a  body  of 
officers,  who  are  corrupted  by  patriotism,  bribery,  and 
hypnotism,  and  millions  of  physically  sound  and  morally 
undeveloped  children  of  twenty-one  years  of  age,  —  the 
soldiers,  or  a  rabljle  of  immoral  hirelings,  who  are  stulti- 
fied by  discipline  and  are  ready  for  any  crime  which  they 
are  ordered  by  their  superiors  to  commit. 

And  so  it  is  impossible  in  our  time  by  force  to  destroy 
the  government,  which  is  in  possession  of  such  means, 
and  which  is  all  the  time  on  guard.  No  government  will 
allow  this  to  be  done  to  itself.  And  so  long  as  there 
shall  be  a  government,  it  will  maintain  the  ownership  of 
the  land,  the  collection  of  the  taxes,  and  the  possession 
of  capital,  because  the  larger  landowners  and  the  officials, 
who  receive  their  salaries  from  the  taxes,  and  the  capi- 
talists form  parts  of  the  government.  Every  attempt  of 
the  labourers  to  get  possession  of  the  land,  which  is  in  the 
hands  of  private  owners,  will  always  end  the  way  it  has 


188  WHERE   IS    THE   WAY    OUT  ? 

always  ended,  —  in  that  the  soldiers  will  come,  will  beat 
and  drive  away  those  who  want  to  seize  the  land,  and  will 
give  it  back  to  the  owner.  In  the  same  way  will  end 
every  attempt  at  not  paying  the  taxes  demanded,  —  the 
soldiers  will  come,  will  take  away  as  much  as  the  taxes 
amount  to,  and  will  beat  him  who  refuses  to  pay  what  is 
demanded  of  him.  The  same  will  happen  to  those  who 
will  try,  not  so  much  to  seize  the  implements  of  produc- 
tion, the  factory,  but  simply  to  institute  a  strike,  to  keep 
other  workmen  from  lowering  the  wages  for  work.  The 
soldiers  will  come  and  will  disperse  the  participants,  as 
has  constantly  happened  in  every  place,  in  Europe  and  in 
Eussia.  So  long  as  the  soldiers  are  in  the  hands  of  the 
government,  which  lives  on  taxes  and  is  connected  with 
the  owners  of  land  and  of  capital,  a  revolution  is  impos- 
sible. And  so  long  as  the  soldiers  are  in  the  hands  of 
the  government,  the  structure  of  life  will  be  such  as  those 
who  have  the  soldiers  in  their  hands  will  want  it  to  be. 


And  so  there  naturally  arises  the  question  :  Who  are 
these  soldiers  ? 

These  soldiers  are  the  same  people  whose  land  has  been 
taken  away,  from  whom  the  taxes  are  being  collected,  and 
who  are  in  slavery  to  the  capitalists. 

Why  do  these  soldiers  act  against  themselves  ? 

They  do  so  because  they  cannot  do  otherwise.  They 
cannot  do  otherwise,  because  by  a  long,  complex  past  — 
of  their  education,  of  their  religious  instruction,  of  hypno- 
tization  —  they  have  been  brought  to  such  a  state  that 
they  cannot  reflect,  and  are  able  only  to  obey.  The  gov- 
ernment, having  in  its  hands  the  money,  which  it  has 
taken  from  the  masses,  with  this  money  bribes  all  kinds 
of  chiefs,  who  have  to  enlist  soldiers,  and  then  military 
chiefs,  who  have  to  teach,  that  is,  deprive  the  men  of 


WHERE   IS   THE   WAT    OUT?  189 

their  human  consciousness;  but  above  all,  the  govern- 
ment with  this  money  bribes  the  teachers  and  the  clergy, 
who  have  to  use  every  effort  for  impressing  adults  and 
children  with  the  idea  that  militarism,  that  is,  the  prepa- 
ration for  murder,  is  not  only  useful  for  men,  but  also 
good  and  pleasing  to  God.  And  year  after  year,  though 
they  see  that  they  aud  their  like  are  enslaving  the  masses 
to  the  rich  and  the  government,  they  submissively  enter 
the  army,  and,  having  entered,  without  a  murmur  do 
everything  prescribed  to  them,  though  that  not  only 
may  be  the  obvious  detriment  of  their  brothers,  but  may 
even  be  the  killing  of  their  own  parents. 

The  bribed  officials,  military  teachers,  and  the  clergy 
prepare  the  soldiers,  by  stupefying  them. 

The  soldiers,  at  the  command  of  their  superiors  and 
with  threats  to  deprive  of  hberty,  to  inflict  wounds  and 
death,  take  the  income  from  the  land,  the  taxes,  and  the 
income  from  the  factories,  from  commerce,  for  the  benefit 
of  the  ruling  classes.  But  the  ruling  classes  use  a  part  of 
this  money  for  bribing  the  chiefs,  the  military  teachers, 
and  the  clergy. 

6 

Thus  the  circle  is  closed,  and  there  does  not  seem  to 
be  any  way  out. 

The  issue  suggested  by  the  revolutionists,  which  con- 
sists in  using  force  in  the  struggle  with  force,  is  obviously 
impossible.  The  governments,  who  are  already  in  posses- 
sion of  a  disciphned  force,  will  never  permit  the  formation 
of  another  disciplined  force.  All  the  attempts  of  the  past 
century  have  shown  how  vain  such  attempts  are.  Nor  is 
there  a  way  out,  as  the  socialists  believe,  by  means  of 
forming  a  great  economic  force  which  would  be  able  to 
fight  successfully  against  the  consolidated  and  ever  more 
consolidating  force  of  the  capitalists.  Never  will  the 
labour  unions,  who  may  be  in  possession  of  a  few  miser- 


190  WHEKE    IS    THE    WAY    OUT? 

able  millions,  be  able  to  fight  against  the  economic  power 
of  the  multi-millionaires,  who  are  always  supported  by 
the  military  force.  Just  as  little  is  there  a  way  out,  as  is 
proposed  by  other  sociahsts,  by  getting  possession  of  the 
majority  of  the  parliament.  Such  a  majority  in  the  par- 
liament will  not  attain  anything,  so  long  as  the  army 
shall  be  in  the  hands  of  the  governments.  The  moment 
the  decrees  of  the  parliament  shall  be  opposed  to  the 
interests  of  the  ruling  classes,  the  government  will  close 
and  disperse  such  a  parliament,  as  has  been  so  frequently 
done  and  as  will  be  done  so  long  as  the  army  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  government.  The  introduction  of  socialistic 
principles  into  the  army  will  not  accomplish  anything. 
The  hypnotism  of  the  army  is  so  artfully  applied  that  the 
most  free-thinking  and  rational  person  will,  so  long  as 
he  is  in  the  army,  always  do  what  is  demanded  of  him. 
Thus  there  is  no  way  out  by  means  of  revolution  or  in 
socialism. 

If  there  is  a  way  out,  it  is  the  one  which  has  not 
been  used  yet  and  which  alone  incontestably  destroys  the 
whole  consolidated,  artful,  and  long-established  govern- 
mental machine  for  the  enslavement  of  the  masses.  This 
way  out  consists  in  refusing  to  enter  into  the  army,  before 
one  is  subjected  to  the  stupefying  and  corrupting  influ- 
ence of  discipline. 

This  way  out  is  the  only  one  which  is  possible  and 
which  at  the  same  time  is  inevitably  obligatory  for  every 
individual  person.  It  is  the  only  possible  one,  because 
the  existing  violence  is  based  on  three  actions  of  the  gov- 
ernment,—  on  the  robbery  of  the  masses,  on  the  distri- 
bution of  money  thus  taken  to  those  who  commit  the 
robbery,  and  on  the  drafting  of  the  masses  into  the  army. 

A  private  individual  cannot  keep  the  government  from 
practising  robbery  on  the  masses  Ijy  means  of  the  drafted 
army,  nor  can  it  keep  it  from  distributing  the  money  col- 
lected from  the  masses  to  those  who  are  needed  by  the 


WHERE    IS    THE    WAY    OUT?  191 

gcvernment  for  the  drafting  of  the  army  and  their  stulti- 
fication ;  but  he  can  keep  the  masses  from  entering  into 
the  army,  by  not  joining  it  himself  and  by  explaining  to 
others  the  essence  of  the  deception  to  which  they  fall 
a  prey  when  they  enter  into  the  army. 

Not  only  can  every  man  do  so,  —  every  private  indi- 
vidual raust  do  so.  Every  private  individual  must  do  so, 
because  the  entrance  into  military  service  is  a  renuncia- 
tion of  every  religion,  no  matter  which  he  may  profess 
(every  one  of  them  prohibits  murder),  and  a  renunciation 
of  human  dignity,  —  a  voluntary  entrance  into  slavery 
having  for  its  purpose  nothing  but  murder. 

In  this  is  the  only  possible,  necessary,  and  inevitable 
way  out  from  that  enslavement  in  which  the  ruling 
classes  keep  the  working  people. 

The  way  out  does  not  consist  in  destroying  violence  by 
means  of  violence,  not  in  seizing  the  implements  of  pro- 
duction or  in  fighting  the  governments  in  the  parhaments, 
but  in  every  man's  recognition  of  the  truth  for  himself,  in 
practising  it,  and  in  acting  in  accordance  with  it.  But  the 
truth  that  a  man  must  not  kill  his  neighbour  has  been  so 
universally  cognized  by  humanity  that  it  is  known  to 
everybody. 

Let  only  men  apply  their  forces,  not  to  external  phe- 
nomena, but  to  the  causes  of  the  phenomena,  to  their  own 
lives,  and  like  wax  before  the  fire  will  all  that  power  of 
violence  and  evil  melt,  which  now  holds  and  torments 
people. 

October,  1900. 


NEED   IT   BE   SO? 

1900 


NEED  IT  BE  SO? 


Amidst  fields  there  stands,  surrounded  by  a  wall,  a 
foundry,  with  incessantly  smoking  chinmeys,  clatteriug 
chains,  furnaces,  a  railway  siding,  and  scattered  little 
houses  of  the  managers  and  labourers.  In  this  foundry 
and  in  the  mines  belonging  to  it  the  working  people 
swarm  like  ants ;  some  of  them,  in  passages  two  hundred 
feet  underground,  which  are  dark,  narrow,  close,  damp, 
and  constantly  threaten  with  death,  are  at  work  from 
morning  until  night,  or  from  night  until  morning,  mining 
the  ore ;  others  in  the  darkness,  bending  over,  take  this 
ore  or  clay  to  the  shaft  and  take  back  empty  cars,  and 
again  fill  them,  and  so  work  for  twelve  or  fourteen  hours 
a  day  throughout  the  week. 

Thus  they  work  in  the  mines.  In  the  foundry  itself, 
some  work  at  the  furnace  in  an  oppressive  heat,  others 
work  at  the  trough  of  the  melted  ore  and  slag ;  others 
again,  the  engineers,  stokers,  smiths,  brickmakers,  car- 
penters, are  at  work  in  the  shops,  also  from  twelve  to 
fourteen  hours  a  day  throughout  the  week. 

On  Sunday  all  these  men  receive  their  wages,  wash 
themselves,  or  sometimes  even  do  not  wash  themselves, 
go  to  the  inns  and  saloons  which  on  all  sides  surround 
the  foundry,  and  which  entice  the  working  people,  and 
early  on  Monday  morning  they  go  back  to  their  work. 

195 


196  NEED    IT   BE    SO  ? 

Near  this  same  foundry  peasants  plough  somebody 
else's  field  with  lean,  worn-out  horses.  These  peasants 
got  up  with  the  dawn,  if  they  have  not  passed  the  night 
in  the  pasture,  that  is,  near  a  swamp,  the  only  place  where 
they  can  feed  their  horses ;  they  get  up  with  the 
dawn,  come  home,  harness  the  horses,  and,  taking  with 
them  a  slice  of  bread,  go  out  to  plough  somebody  else's 
field. 

Other  peasants  are  sitting  not  far  away  from  the 
foundry,  on  the  highway,  and,  having  made  themselves 
a  shield  from  matting,  are  breaking  rock  for  the  highway. 
The  legs  of  these  men  are  bruised,  their  hands  are  all 
calluses,  their  whole  bodies  are  dirty,  and  not  only  their 
faces,  hair,  and  beards,  but  even  their  lungs  are  permeated 
with  lime  dust. 

Taking  a  small  unbroken  stone  from  a  heap,  these  men 
put  it  between  the  soles  of  their  feet,  which  are  covered 
with  bast  shoes  and  wrapped  in  rags,  and  strike  this  stone 
with  a  heavy  mallet,  until  the  stone  breaks :  when  the 
stone  has  broken,  they  take  the  smaller  parts  and  strike 
them  until  these  are  broken  fine ;  and  again  they  take 
whole  stones,  and  again.  —  And  thus  these  men -work 
from  early  summer  dawn  until  night,  —  fifteen,  sixteen 
hours,  resting  only  for  two  hours  after  dinner,  and  twice, 
at  breakfast  and  at  noon,  strengthening  themselves  with 
bread  and  water. 

And  thus  do  these  men  live  in  the  mines  and  in  the 
foundry,  and  the  ploughmen,  and  the  stone-breakers, 
from  early  youth  until  old  age ;  and  in  similar  work 
above  their  strength  live  their  wives  and  their  mothers, 
suffering  from  diseases  of  the  womb ;  and  thus  live  their 
fathers  and  their  children,  poorly  fed,  poorly  dressed, 
doing  work  which  is  above  their  strength  and  ruins  their 
health,  from  morning  until  evening,  from  childhood  until 
old  age. 

And  past  the  foundry,  past  the  stone-breakers,  past  the 


NEED    IT    BE    SO?  197 

ploughing  peasants,  meeting  and  overtaking  ragged  men 
and  women  with  their  w^allets,  who  are  wandering  from 
place  to  place  and  begging  in  the  name  of  Christ,  there 
races  a  carriage,  with  tinkhng  bells,  drawn  by  four 
matched  chestnut  horses  of  good  height,  the  worst  of 
which  is  worth  the  whole  farm  of  any  of  the  peasants 
who  are  admiring  the  four-in-hand.  In  the  carriage  are 
seated  two  ladies,  displaying  brightly  coloured  parasols, 
ribbons,  and  hat  feathers,  each  of  which  costs  more  than 
the  horse  with  which  a  peasant  ploughs  his  field ;  in  the 
front  seat  sits  an  officer,  shining  in  the  sun  with  lace  and 
buttons,  and  dressed  in  a  freshly  laundered  blouse;  on 
the  box  sits  a  ponderous  coachman,  in  blue  silk  shirt- 
sleeves and  velvet  sleeveless  coat.  He  came  very  near 
crushing  some  women  pilgrims,  and  almost  knocked  a 
peasant,  who,  dressed  in  a  dirty,  ore-soiled  shirt,  was  jolt- 
ing in  his  empty  cart,  into  the  ditch. 

"  You  see  this  ? "  says  the  coachman,  showing  the  whip 
to  the  peasant,  who  was  not  quick  enough  in  turning 
aside,  and  the  peasant  with  one  hand  pulls  the  rein  and 
with  the  other  timidly  pulls  his  cap  off  his  lousy  head. 

Back  of  the  carriage,  glinting  in  the  sun  with  the 
nickle-plated  parts  of  their  machines,  noiselessly  race  two 
men  and  one  woman  on  bicycles,  and  they  laugh  merrily, 
as  they  overtake  and  frighten  the  wandering  women,  who 
make  the  sign  of  the  cross. 

On  the  side-path  of  the  highway  pass  two  riders,  —  a 
man  on  an  English  cob,  and  a  lady  on  an  ambler.  To 
say  nothing  of  the  cost  of  the  horses  and  the  saddles,  the 
one  black  hat  with  the  lilac  veil  cost  two  months'  work 
of  the  stone-breakers,  and  for  the  fasliiouable  English 
whip  as  much  was  paid  as  in  a  week  will  be  earned  by 
that  young  lad,  who  is  happy  that  he  has  hired  out  to 
work  underground  in  the  mine,  and  who  is  getting  out  of 
the  way,  while  admiring  the  sleek  forms  of  the  horses  and 
riders,  and  the  fat,  imported,  immense  dog  in  an  expen- 


198  NEED    IT    BE    SO? 

sive  collar,  which  is  running  with  protruding  tongue  back 
of  them. 

Not  far  from  this  company  there  travel  in  a  cart  a 
dressed-up,  smiling  maid,  with  curls,  wearing  a  white 
apron,  and  a  fat,  ruddy  man,  with  well-groomed  side- 
whiskers,  who  is  whispering  something  to  the  maid.  In 
the  cart  may  be  seen  a  samovar,  bundles  in  napkins,  and 
an  ice-cream  freezer. 

These  are  the  servants  of  the  people  who  are  travelling 
in  the  carriage,  on  horseback,  and  on  bicycles.  The  pres- 
ent day  is  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary.  Thus  they  live 
the  whole  summer,  going  out  for  pleasure  almost  every 
day,  and  at  times,  as  now,  taking  with  them  tea,  bever- 
ages, and  sweets,  in  order  to  eat  and  drink,  not  in  the 
same,  but  in  some  new  place. 

These  people  are  three  families  which  are  passing  the 
summer  in  the  country.  One  is  the  family  of  a  proprietor, 
the  owner  of  two  thousand  desyatinas  of  land,  another 
that  of  an  official,  who  receives  a  salary  of  three  thousand 
roubles,  and  the  third  —  the  wealthiest  family  —  the 
children  of  a  manufacturer. 

All  these  people  are  not  in  the  least  surprised  or 
touched  by  the  sight  of  all  this  poverty  and  hard  labour  by 
which  they  are  surrounded.  They  think  that  all  this  must 
be  so.     They  are  interested  in  something  quite  different. 

"  No,  that  is  impossible,"  says  the  lady  on  horseback, 
looking  back  at  the  dog,  "  I  cannot  see  that ! "  and  she 
stops  the  carriage.  All  talk  together  in  French  and 
laugh,  and  they  put  the  dog  into  the  carriage  and  proceed, 
covering  the  stone-breakers  and  the  itinerants  with  clouds 
of  lime  dust. 

And  the  carriage,  the  riders,  the  bicyclists,  have  flashed 
by  like  beings  from  another  world ;  and  the  people  in 
the  foundry,  the  stone-breakers,  the  ploughmen  continue 
their  hard,  monotonous  work  for  somebody  else,  which 
will  end  with  their  lives. 


NEED    IT    BE    SO  ?  199 

"  Some  people  have  a  fine  time ! "  they  think,  as  they 
watch  the  travellers  off.  And  their  painful  existence 
appears  still  more  painful  to  them. 


What  is  this?  Have  these  labouring  people  done 
something  very  criminal  that  they  are  punished  thus  ? 
Or  is  this  the  lot  of  all  men  ?  And  have  those  who 
passed  by  in  the  carriages  and  on  the  bicycles  done  some- 
thing particularly  useful  and  important  that  they  are  thus 
rewarded  ?  Not  in  the  least !  On  the  contrary,  those 
who  are  working  with  such  tension  are  for  the  most  part 
moral,  continent,  modest,  industrious  people  ;  while  those 
who  passed  by  axe  for  the  most  part  corrupted,  lustful, 
impudent,  idle  people.  This  is  so,  because  such  a  struc- 
ture of  life  is  considered  natural  and  regular  in  the  world 
of  men  who  assert  that  they  are  professing  Christ's  law  of 
love  of  our  neighbour,  or  that  they  are  people  of  culture, 
that  is,  perfected  people. 

Such  a  structure  exists,  not  only  in  that  corner  of  Tiila 
County,  which  presents  itself  vividly  to  me,  because  I 
frequently  see  it,  but  everywhere,  not  only  in  Kussia,  — 
from  St.  Petersburg  to  Batum,  —  but  also  in  France,  — 
from  Paris  to  Auvergne,  —  and  in  Italy,  —  from  Eome  to 
Palermo,  —  and  in  Germany,  in  Spain,  in  America,  in 
Austraha,  and  even  in  India  and  in  China.  Everywhere 
two  or  three  people  in  a  thousand  live  in  such  a  way 
that,  without  doing  anything  for  themselves,  they  in  one 
day  consume  in  food  and  drink  as  much  as  would  support 
hundreds  of  people  for  a  year ;  they  wear  clothes  which 
cost  thousands ;  live  in  palaces,  where  thousands  of 
labouring  people  could  find  room ;  spend  on  their  whims 
thousands  of  roubles  and  millions  of  work-days ;  others 
again,  getting  neither  enough  sleep  nor  enough  food,  work 


200  NEED    IT    BE    SO  ? 

above  their  strength,  ruining  their  bodily  and  their  spir- 
itual health  for  these  few  elect. 

For  one  class  of  women,  when  they  are  about  to  bear 
children,  they  send  for  a  midwife,  a  doctor,  sometimes  for 
two  doctors  for  one  lying-in  woman,  and  their  layettes 
contain  a  hundred  baby-shirts  and  swaddhng-clothes  with 
silk  ribbons,  and  they  get  ready  little  wagons  swinging  on 
springs ;  the  other  class  of  women,  the  vast  majority,  bear 
children  in  any  chance  place  and  in  any  chance  manner, 
without  aid,  swaddle  them  in  rags,  put  them  into  bast 
cradles  on  straw,  and  are  glad  when  they  die. 

The  children  of  one  class,  while  the  mother  is  lying  in 
bed  for  nine  days,  are  taken  care  of  by  the  midwife,  the 
nurse,  the  wet-nurse ;  the  children  of  the  other  class 
are  not  taken  care  of,  because  there  is  no  one  to  do  so, 
and  the  mother  herself  gets  up  immediately  after  cliild- 
birth,  makes  the  fires  in  the  oven,  milks  the  cow,  and 
sometimes  washes  the  clothes  for  herself,  her  husband, 
and  her  children.  One  class  of  children  grows  up  among 
toys,  amusements,  and  instructions ;  the  other  children  at 
first  crawl  with  their  bared  bellies  over  thresholds,  become 
maimed,  are  eaten  up  by  pigs,  and  at  five  years  of  age  be- 
gin to  work  above  their  strength.  The  first  are  taught  all 
the  scientific  wisdom  which  is  adapted  to  their  age ;  the 
others  learn  vulgar  curses  and  the  most  savage  of  supersti- 
tions. The  first  fall  in  love,  carry  on  love-affairs,  and  then 
marry,  after  they  have  experienced  all  the  pleasures  of 
love ;  the  others  are  married  oft'  to  those  whom  the 
parents  choose,  between  the  ages  of  sixteen  and  twenty 
years,  for  the  purpose  of  receiving  additional  aid.  The 
first  eat  and  drink  the  best  and  the  most  expensive  things 
in  the  world,  feeding  their  dogs  on  white  bread  and  beef ; 
the  second  eat  nothing  but  bread  and  kvas,  nor  do  they 
get  enough  bread,  and  what  they  get  is  stale,  so  that 
they  may  not  eat  too  much  of  it.  The  first  change  their 
fine  underwear  every  day,  so  as  not  to  get  soiled ;   the 


NEED    IT   BE    SO?  201 

second,  who  are  constantly  doing  work  for  others,  change 
their  coarse,  ragged,  lousy  underwear  once  in  two  weeks, 
or  do  not  change  it  at  all,  but  wear  it  until  it  falls  to 
pieces.  The  flrst  sleep  between  clean  sheets,  on  feather 
beds ;  the  second  sleep  on  the  ground,  covering  them- 
selves with  their  tattered  caftans. 

The  first  drive  out  with  well-fed  horses,  for  no  work, 
but  simply  for  pleasure ;  the  second  work  hard  with  ill- 
fed  horses,  and  walk,  if  they  have  any  business  to  attend 
to.  The  first  wonder  what  to  do,  in  order  to  occupy  their 
leisure  time ;  the  second  find  no  time  to  clean  themselves, 
to  wash,  to  take  a  rest,  to  say  a  word,  to  visit  their  rela- 
tives. The  first  read  four  languages  and  every  day  amuse 
themselves  with  the  greatest  variety  of  things  ;  the  second 
do  not  know  how  to  read  at  all  and  know  no  other  amuse- 
ment than  drunkenness.  The  first  know  everything  and 
believe  in  nothing;  the  second  know  nothing  and  beheve 
any  nonsense  that  they  are  told.  When  the  first  get  sick, 
they  travel  from  place  to  place  in  search  of  the  best  cura- 
tive air,  to  say  nothing  of  all  kinds  of  waters,  ^very  kind 
of  attention,  and  every  kind  of  cleanliness  and  medicine ; 
the  second  lie  down  on  the  oven  in  a  smoky  hut,  and 
with  unwashed  sores,  and  with  the  absence  of  any  food 
but  stale  bread,  and  of  all  air  but  such  as  is  infected  by 
ten  members  of  the  family,  and  by  the  calves  and  sheep, 
rot  alive  and  die  before  their  time. 

Must  it  be  so  ? 

If  there  is  a  higher  reason  and  a  love  which  guide  the 
world,  if  there  is  a  God,  He  cannot  have  wished  to  see  such 
division  among  men,  when  one  class  of  them  do  not  know 
what  to  do  with  the  surplus  of  their  wealth  and  sense- 
lessly squander  the  fruit  of  the  labours  of  other  men,  and 
the  others  grow  sick  and  die  before  their  time,  or  live  an 
agonizing  life,  working  above  their  strength. 

If  there  is  a  God,  this  cannot  and  must  not  be.  But  if 
there  is  no  God,  such  a  structure  of  life,  in  which  the 


202  NEED    IT    BE    SO? 

majority  of  men  must  waste  their  lives,  so  that  a  small 
number  of  men  may  enjoy  an  abundance,  which  only  cor- 
rupts this  minority  and  weighs  heavily  upon  it,  is,  from 
the  simplest  human  point  of  view,  insipid,  because  it  is 
disadvantageous  for  all  men. 


Why,  then,  do  men  live  thus  ? 

It  is  natural  for  the  rich,  who  are  used  to  their  wealth 
and  who  do  not  see  clearly  that  wealth  does  not  give  hap- 
piness, to  try  to  maintain  their  position.  But  why  does 
the  vast  majority,  in  whose  hands  is  every  power,  assume 
that  there  is  happiness  in  wealth,  and  continue  to  live  in 
want  and  submit  to  the  minority  ? 

Indeed,  why  do  all  those  men  who  are  strong  in  muscles 
and  in  artisanship  and  in  the  habit  of  work  —  the  vast 
majority  of  men  —  submit,  give  in  to  a  handful  of  feeble 
people,  pampered  old  men  and  mainly  women,  who  for 
the  most  part  are  not  fit  for  anything  ? 

Take  a  walk  before  the  holidays  or  during  bargain 
weeks  along  the  business  streets,  say  through  the  Mos- 
cow Passages.  Ten  or  twelve  Passages,  consisting  of 
solid  rows  of  magnificent  shops  with  immense  plate-glass 
windows,  are  all  filled  with  all  kinds  of  expensive  wares, 
—  exclusively  feminine  ones,  —  stuffs,  dresses,  laces,  gems, 
foot-gear,  house  adornments,  furs,  and  so  forth.  All  these 
things  cost  millions  and  millions,  all  these  articles  have 
been  manufactured  in  establishments  by  working  people 
who  frequently  ruin  their  lives  over  this  work,  and  all 
these  articles  are  of  no  use,  not  only  to  the  working 
people,  but  even  to  the  wealthy  men,  —  they  are  all 
amusements  and  adornments  of  women.  At  the  en- 
trances porters  in  galloons  stand  on  both  sides,  and 
coachmen  in  expensive  garments  sit  on   the   boxes   of 


NEED   IT    BE    SO?  203 

expensive  carriages,  which  are  drawn  by  trotters  that  cost 
into  the  thousands.  Again  millions  of  working  days  have 
been  wasted  on  the  production  of  all  the  luxury  of  the 
harnesses :  old  and  young  working  people,  men  and 
women,  have  devoted  all  their  lives  to  the  production  of 
all  these  articles.  And  all  these  articles  are  in  the  power 
and  in  the  hands  of  a  few  hundred  women,  who  in  expen- 
sive furs  and  hats  of  the  latest  fashion  saunter  through 
these  shops  and  purchase  all  these  articles,  which  are 
manufactured  for  them. 

A  few  hundreds  of  women  arbitrarily  dispose  of  the 
labour  of  millions  of  working  people,  who  work  to  support 
themselves  and  their  famihes.  On  the  whims  of  these 
w^omen  depend  the  fate,  the  lives  of  millions  of  people. 

How  did  this  happen  ? 

Why  do  all  these  millions  of  strong  people,  wjio  have 
manufactured  these  articles,  submit  to  these  women  ? 

Now  a  lady  in  a  velvet  fur  coat  and  a  hat  of  the  very 
latest  fashion  drives  up  with  a  span  of  trotters.  Every- 
thing upon  her  is  new  and  most  expensive.  A  porter 
hurries  to  throw  back  the  boot  of  her  sleigh,  and  respect- 
fully helps  her  out,  by  supporting  her  under  her  elbow. 
She  walks  down  the  Passage  as  though  through  her  king- 
dom, enters  one  of  the  shops,  and  buys  live  thousand  rou- 
bles' worth  of  material  for  her  drawing-room,  and,  having 
given  the  order  to  send  it  up  to  her  house,  goes  elsewhere. 
She  is  an  evil,  stupid,  and  not  at  all  beautiful  woman, 
who  does  not  bear  any  children  and  has  never  done  any- 
thing in  her  life  for  any  one  else.  Why,  then,  do  the 
porter,  and  the  coachman,  and  the  clerks  fawn  so  serv- 
ilely before  her?  And  why  has  all  that  over  which 
thousands  of  workmen  have  laboured  become  her  prop- 
erty ?  Because  she  has  money,  and  the  porter,  the  coach- 
man, the  clerks,  and  the  workmen  in  the  factory  need 
money,  with  which  to  support  their  families.  The  money 
is  most  convenient  for  them,  and  frequently  can  be  gained 


204  NEED    IT    BE    SO? 

only  by  serving  as  a  coachman,  porter,  clerk,  workman  in 
a  factory. 

And  why  has  this  woman  money  ?  She  has  money 
because  people  who  have  been  driven  off  the  land  and 
have  forgotten  how  to  do  any  other  work  are  living  in 
her  husband's  factory,  while  her  husband,  giving  the  work- 
men as  much  as  they  must  necessarily  have  for  their  sup- 
port, takes  all  the  profit  from  the  factory,  to  the  amount 
of  several  hundred  thousands,  for  himself,  and,  not  know- 
ing what  to  do  with  the  money,  is  glad  to  give  it  to  his 
wife,  for  her  to  spend  it  on  anything  she  may  wish. 

And  here  is  another  lady,  in  a  still  more  luxurious 
carriage  and  garments,  who  is  buying  up  all  kinds  of 
expensive  and  useless  things  in  all  kinds  of  shops.  Where 
does  she  get  the  money  from  ?  She  is  the  mistress  of  a 
wealthy  landowner  of  twenty  thousand  desyatinas,  which 
were  given  to  his  ancestor  by  a  harlot  queen  for  his  de- 
bauchery with  that  old  queen.  This  landowner  owns  all 
the  land  around  a  colony  of  peasants,  and  lets  this  land 
to  the  peasants  at  seventeen  roubles  per  desyatina.  The 
peasants  pay  this  money,  because  without  the  land  they 
would  starve.  And  this  money  is  now  in  the  hands  of 
the  mistress,  and  with  this  money  she  buys  things  which 
have  been  made  by  other  peasants,  who  have  been  driven 
off  the  land. 

Here  again  a  third  rich  woman,  with  her  fianc^  and 
mother,  is  walking  down  the  Passage.  This  woman  is 
about  to  marry,  and  she  is  buying  bronzes  and  expensive 
dishes.  She  has  money  given  her  by  her  father,  a  distin- 
guislied  official,  who  is  receiving  a  salary  of  twelve  thou- 
sand roubles.  He  gave  his  daughter  a  dowry  of  seven 
thousand  roubles.  This  money  was  collected  from  import 
revenues  and  taxes,  again  from  the  peasants.  These  same 
taxes  compelled  the  porter,  who  opens  the  door  (he  is  a 
Kaluga  peasant,  —  his  wife  and  children  are  left  at  home), 
and  the  coachman,  who  brought  them  up  (he  is  a  Tula 


NEED    IT    BE    SO?  205 

peasant),  and  hundreds,  and  thousands,  and  millions  of 
men,  who  work  out  in  houses  or  in  factories,  —  to  leave 
their  homes  and  to  work  on  articles  which  are  consumed 
by  the  ladies,  who  receive  the  money,  which  by  the  man- 
ufacturers, landowners,  officials  is  collected  from  the  profit 
in  the  factories,  or  from  the  land,  or  from  the  taxes. 

Thus  millions  of  workmen  have  submitted  to  these 
women,  because  one  man  has  taken  possession  of  a  fac- 
tory, in  which  people  work,  another  has  taken  possession 
of  the  land,  while  a  third  has  seized  the  taxes,  wliich  are 
collected  from  the  labouring  classes.  It  is  this  that  pro- 
duced that  which  I  saw  about  the  foundry. 

The  peasants  ploughed  somebody  else's  field,  because 
they  have  not  enough  land,  and  he  who  owns  the  land 
permits  them  to  use  his  land  only  on  condition  that  they 
work  for  him.  The  stone-breakers  broke  rock,  because 
only  by  means  of  this  work  were  they  able  to  pay  the 
taxes  demanded  of  them.  In  the  foundry  and  in  the  mines 
the  people  worked,  because  the  earth  from  which  the  ore 
is  extracted  and  the  smelter  where  it  is  smelted  do  not 
belong  to  them. 

All  these  working  people  do  hard  work,  not  for  them- 
selves, because  the  rich  have  taken  possession  of  the  land, 
collect  taxes,  and  own  the  plants. 


"WTiy  does  he  who  does  not  work,  and  not  he  who 
works,  own  the  land  ?  Wliy  do  a  small  number  of  men 
make  use  of  the  taxes  which  are  collected  from  all  men,  and 
not  those  who  pay  them  ?  Why  are  the  factories  owned, 
not  by  those  who  built  them  and  work  in  them,  but  by  a 
small  number  of  men  who  did  not  build  them  and  do  not 
work  in  them  ? 

To  the  question  as  to  why  non-workers  have  seized  the 
land  of  the  workers  the  customary  answer  is,  that  that  is 


206  NEED   IT    BE    SO? 

SO,  because  the  land  was  given  them  for  their  deserts  or 
bought  with  money  earned.  To  the  question  as  to  why 
one  set  of  men,  a  small  number  of  men,  the  non-working 
managers  and  their  helpers,  collect  for  themselves  the 
greater  share  of  the  wealth  of  all  the  working  people,  and 
use  it  at  will,  the  customary  answer  is  this,  that  the  men 
who  use  the  money  which  is  collected  from  the  masses 
manage  the  others  and  defend  them  and  preserve  order 
and  decency  among  them.  And  to  the  question  as  to 
why  rich  people  of  leisure  own  the  products  and  imple- 
ments of  the  labour  of  the  working  people,  the  answer 
is  that  these  productions  and  implements  of  labour  were 
earned  by  them  or  by  their  ancestors. 

And  all  these  men  —  the  landowners,  the  servants  of 
the  government,  the  merchants,  the  manufacturers  —  are 
sincerely  convinced  that  their  possession  is  quite  just, — 
that  they  have  the  right  to  such  a  possession. 

However,  neither  the  possession  of  the  land,  nor  the 
collection  of  the  taxes  and  use  of  them,  nor  the  posses- 
sion of  the  products  and  implements  of  labour  l)y  people 
of  leisure,  has  any  justification.  The  possession  of  land 
by  those  who  do  not  work  upon  it  has  no  justification, 
because  the  land,  like  the  water,  the  air,  the  sunbeams, 
forms  an  indispensable  condition  of  the  life  of  every  man 
and  so  cannot  be  the  exclusive  possession  of  one  person. 
If  the  land,  and  not  the  water,  the  air,  and  the  sunbeams, 
has  become  an  object  of  possession,  this  is  not  due  to  the 
fact  that  the  land  is  not  just  as  indispensable  and  appro- 
priable a  condition  for  the  existence  of  any  man,  but  only 
because  it  has  been  impossible  to  deprive  people  of  water, 
air,  and  sun,  while  it  has  been  possible  to  deprive  them 
of  the  land. 

The  ownership  of  land,  having  originated  in  violence 
(through  conquest  people  appropriated  the  land,  and  then 
gave  it  away  and  sold  it),  has  remained,  in  spite  of  every 
effort  at  turning  it  into  a  right,  nothing  but  an  act  of 


NEED    IT    BE    SO  ?  207 

violence  of  the  strong  and  armed  against  the  weak  and 
unarmed. 

Let  a  man,  who  is  working  the  land,  violate  this  imagi- 
nary right,  let  him  plough  the  land  which  is  considered  to 
be  the  property  of  another,  and  there  will  soon  appear 
that  on  which  this  supposed  right  is  based,  —  at  first  in 
the  form  of  pohcemen,  and  then  in  the  form  of  a  military 
force,  —  of  soldiers,  —  who  will  stab  and  shoot  those  who 
are  trying  to  make  use  of  their  real  right  to  support  them- 
selves by  means  of  work  on  the  land.  Thus,  what  is 
called  the  right  to  the  ownership  of  land  is  nothing  but 
violence  exerted  against  all  those  who  may  have  need  of 
this  land.  The  right  to  the  land  is  like  the  right  to  a 
road  which  robbers  have  seized  and  over  which  they  do 
not  permit  people  to  travel  without  a  ransom. 

A  still  lesser  semblance  of  justification  can  be  found 
for  the  right  of  the  government  to  a  forcible  levy  of  the 
taxes.  It  is  asserted  that  the  taxes  are  used  for  the  de- 
fence of  the  government  against  foreign  enemies,  for  the 
establishmeut  and  support  of  domestic  order,  and  for 
the  execution  of  necessary  public  works. 

But,  in  the  first  place,  foreign  enemies  have  long  ago 
ceased  to  exist,  even  according  to  the  declarations  of  the 
governments  themselves :  they  all  assure  their  nations 
that  they  wish  for  nothing  but  peace.  The  Emperor  of 
Germany  wants  peace,  the  French  republic  wants  peace, 
England  wants  peace,  and  Eussia  wants  the  same.  Still 
more  urgently  do  the  Transvaalers  and  the  Chinese  want 
peace.     So  against  whom  are  we  to  defend  ourselves  ? 

In  the  second  place,  in  order  to  give  up  the  money  for 
the  establishment  of  domestic  order  and  public  works,  it  is 
necessary  to  be  sure  that  the  men  who  establish  order 
will  do  so,  and,  besides,  that  this  order  will  be  good  and 
that  the  public  works  to  be  executed  will  actually  be 
needed  by  society.  But  if,  as  is  always  and  everywhere 
repeated,  those  who  pay  the  taxes  are  not  convinced  of 


208  NEED   IT   BE   SO? 

the  fitness,  or  even  of  the  honesty  of  those  who  estabhsh 
order,  and,  besides,  consider  the  order  itself  to  be  bad  and 
the  public  works  about  to  be  executed  not  such  as  the  tax- 
payers need,  it  is  evident  that  there  is  no  right  to  collect 
taxes,  but  only  violence. 

I  remember  the  utterance  of  a  Kussian  peasant,  who 
was  religious  and,  therefore,  truly  liberal.  Like  Thoreau, 
he  did  not  consider  it  just  to  pay  taxes  for  things  which 
his  conscience  did  not  approve  of,  and  when  he  was  asked 
to  pay  his  share  of  the  taxes,  he  asked  what  the  taxes 
which  he  would  pay  would  be  used  for,  saying,  "  If  the 
taxes  shall  be  used  for  a  good  thing,  I  will  at  once  give  you 
not  only  what  you  demand,  but  even  more ;  but  if  they 
shall  be  used  for  something  bad,  I  cannot  and  will  not 
give  a  kopek  of  my  own  free  will." 

Of  course,  they  lost  no  time  with  him,  but  broke  down 
his  closed  gate,  carried  off  his  cow,  and  sold  it  for  the 
taxes.  Thus  in  reahty  there  is  but  one  true  and  real 
cause  of  taxes,  —  the  power  which  collects  them,  —  the 
possibility  of  robbing  those  who  do  not  give  the  taxes 
willingly,  and  even  of  beating  them  for  a  refusal,  of  put- 
ting them  in  prison,  and  of  punishing  them  —  as  is  actu- 
ally done. 

The  fact  that  in  England,  in  France,  in  America,  and 
in  general  in  constitutional  governments,  the  taxes  are 
determined  by  the  parliament,  that  is,  by  tbe  supposed 
representatives  of  the  people  gathered  together,  does  not 
change  the  matter,  because  the  elections  are  so  arranged 
that  the  members  of  the  parliament  do  not  represent  the 
people,  but  are  politicians,  and  if  they  were  not  to  start 
with,  they  become  such  as  soon  as  they  get  into  parlia- 
ment, and  are  busy  with  their  personal  ambition  and  the 
interests  of  the  warring  parties. 

Just  as  groundless  are  the  justifications  of  the  supposed 
right  of  ownership,  which  the  leisure  people  claim  in 
respect  to  the  products  of  the  labour  of  other  people, 


NEED   IT   BE   SO?  209 

This  right  of  ownership,  which  is  even  called  a  sacred 
right,  is  generally  justified  on  the  ground  that  property 
is  the  result  of  continence  and  of  an  industrious  activ- 
ity, which  is  useful  to  men.  But  we  need  only  analyze 
the  origin  of  gieat  fortunes,  to  he  convinced  of  the  con- 
trary. 

Fortunes  always  originate,  either  in  violence,  —  this  is 
most  common,  —  or  in  nastiness,  or  in  rascality  on  a  large 
scale,  or  in  chronic  cheating,  like  what  is  practised  by 
merchants.     The  more  a  man  is  moral,  the  more  certain 
he  is  to  be  deprived  of  the  fortune  which  he  has,  and  the 
more  he  is  immoral,  the  more  certain  he  is  to  gain  and 
retain  a  fortune.     Popular  wisdom  says  that  one  cannot 
earn  stone  palaces  with  righteous   labour,  —  that  labour 
gives  one  stooping  shoulders,  and  not  wealth.     Thus  it 
was,  indeed,  of  old,  and  it  is  still  more  true  of  the  present, 
when  the  distribution  of  wealth  has  long  ago  taken  place 
in  a  most  irregular  manner.     Though  we  may  admit  that 
in  primitive  society  a  more  abstemious  and  industrious 
man  will  gain  more  than  an  incontinent  man,  who  does 
not  work  much,  nothing  of  the  kind  is  true  for  our  present 
society.      No  matter  how  abstemious  and  industrious  a 
man,  a  labourer,  may  be,  who  is  working  on  somebody 
else's  land,  who  purchases  at  a  price  established  for  him 
such  articles  as  he  may  need,  and  who  works  with  other 
people's  implements  of  labour,  he  will  never  acquire  any 
wealth.     But  the  most  incontinent  and  idle  of  men,  —  as 
we  see  in  the  case  of  thousands  of  individuals,  —  who 
stands  in  with  the  government  or  with  rich  men,  who 
busies  himself  with  usury,  with  a  manufactory,  a  house  of 
prostitution,  a  bank,  the  sale  of  liquor,  will  easily  acquire 
a  fortune. 

The  laws  which  are  supposed  to  protect  property  are 

laws  which  only  protect  property  which  has  been  stolen, 

'  which   is   already  in  the    hands  of    the   rich,   and   they 

not  only  fail  to  protect  the  labourers,  who  have  no  prop- 


210  NEED    IT   BE    SO  ? 

erty,  except  their  labour,  but  even  aid  in  robbing  them 
of  this  labour. 

We  see  an  endless  number  of  administrators,  —  the 
Tsar,  his  brothers,  uncles,  ministers,  judges,  the  clergy,  — 
who  receive  enormous  salaries,  collected  from  the  people, 
and  who  do  not  even  attend  to  those  easy  duties  which 
they  have  undertaken  to  attend  to  for  this  remuneration. 
And  so,  it  would  seem,  these  people  steal  the  salary  col- 
lected from  the  masses,  that  is,  the  property  of  the 
masses,  but  it  does  not  even  occur  to  any  one  to  condemn 
them. 

But  let  a  labourer  make  use  of  even  a  part  of  the 
money  received  by  these  people,  or  of  the  objects  bought 
with  this  money,  and  it  will  be  said  that  he  has  vio- 
lated the  sacred  ownership,  and  for  this  sum  which 
he  has  made  use  of  he  is  sentenced,  imprisoned,  and  de- 
ported. 

A  manufacturer,  who  is  a  millionaire,  promises  to  pay 
the  labouring  man  a  wage  which  for  him,  the  manufac- 
turer, represents  one  ten-milhonth  part  of  his  fortune, 
that  is,  almost  nothing;  but  the  labourer  puts  himself 
under  obligation,  in  consequence  of  his  want,  in  the  -course 
of  the  year  to  furnish,  with  the  exception  of  the  holidays, 
his  daily  work  of  twelve  hours,  which  is  dangerous  and 
harmful  for  his  health,  that  is,  he  puts  himself  under 
obligation  to  give  the  maufacturer  the  greater  part  of  his 
life,  perhaps  his  whole  life ;  and  the  government  protects 
alike  either  kind  of  ownership. 

With  this  the  manufacturer,  as  is  well  known,  year  in 
and  year  out  robs  the  labourer  of  the  greater  share  of  his 
earnings,  and  appropriates  it  to  himself.  It  would  seem 
to  be  obvious  that  the  manufacturer  robs  the  labourer  of 
the  greater  half  of  his  property,  and  so  ought  to  be  made 
responsible  for  it ;  but  the  governraeut  considers  the  , 
manufacturer's  property  thus  gained  to  be  sacred,  and 
punishes  the  labourer  who  under  his  coat  carries  off  two 


NEED    IT    BE    SO?  211 

pounds    of    copper,   which    forms    one-billionth    part    of 
the  manufacturer's  property. 

Let  the  labourer  try,  as  happens  during  the  anti- Jewish 
riots,  to  take  away  from  the  rich  ever  so  small  a  part  of 
what  was  lawfully  taken  from  the  labourers  :  let  a  starv- 
ing man,  as  lately  occurred  in  Milan,  appropriate  a  loaf, 
which,  taking  advantage  of  the  famine,  the  rich  are  selling 
at  a  high  price  to  the  labourers  ;  or  let  a  labourer  by 
means  of  a  strike  endeavour  to  get  back  a  small  part 
of  what  was  taken  from  him,  —  he  violates  the  sacred 
right  of  property,  and  the  government  immediately  comes 
with  its  army  to  the  succour  of  the  landowner,  the  manu- 
facturer, the  merchant,  against  the  labourer.  Thus  the 
right  on  which  the  rich  base  their  ownership  of  the  land, 
the  right  to  levy  taxes  and  possess  the  products  of  labour 
of  other  people,  has  nothing  in  common  with  justice,  and 
aU  of  it  is  based  on  nothing  but  violence,  which  is  pro- 
duced by  the  army. 


Let  a  farmer  try  to  plough  the  field  which  he  needs 
for  his  support ;  let  him  endeavour  to  refuse  to  pay  the 
taxes,  —  either  direct  or  indirect ;  let  him  try  to  take 
provisions  of  corn  which  he  has  not  earned,  or  implements 
of  labour,  without  which  he  cannot  work,  —  and  the  army 
will  appear  and  will  use  force  to  keep  him  from  doing  so. 

Thus  the  alienation  from  the  land,  the  levy  of  taxes, 
the  power  of  the  capitalists,  form,  not  the  cause,  but  the 
result  of  the  wretched  condition  of  the  labourers.  The 
fundamental  cause  why  millions  of  labourers  live  and 
work  at  the  will  of  the  minority  does  not  lie  in  this,  that 
the  minority  has  seized  upon  the  land,  and  upon  the  im- 
plements of  production,  and  receives  the  taxes,  but  in 
this,  that  it  can  do  so,  —  that  there  is  violence,  an  army, 
which  is  in  the  hands  of  the  minority  and  is  ready  to  kill 
those  who  do  not  wish  to  do  the  will  of  this  minority. 


212  NEED    IT    BE    SO? 

When  the  peasants  want  to  take  possession  of  the 
land  which  is  considered  to  be  the  property  of  a  man  of 
leisure,  or  when  a  man  does  not  want  to  pay  the  taxes, 
or  when  the  strikers  want  to  keep  other  labourers  from 
taking  their  places,  there  appear  the  same  peasants, 
whose  land  has  been  taken  away,  the  payers  of  taxes  and 
the  labourers,  except  that  they  wear  uniforms  and  bear 
arms,  and  they  compel  their  brothers  —  who  are  not  in 
uniforms  —  to  go  away  from  the  land,  to  pay  taxes,  and 
to  stop  the  strike. 

When  a  man  comes  to  understand  this  at  first,  he  can 
hardly  believe  it,  it  seems  so  strange. 

The  working  people  want  to  free  themselves,  and  the 
working  people  themselves  compel  themselves  to  submit 
and  to  remain  in  slavery. 

Why  do  they  do  so  ?  ' 

Because  the  working  people,  drafted  or  hired  into  the 
army,  are  subjected  to  an  artificial  process  of  stupefaction 
and  corruption,  after  which  they  cannot  help  but  obey 
their  superiors  blindly,  no  matter  what  they  may  com- 
pel them  to  do. 

This  is  done  in  the  following  manner :  a  boy  is-  born 
in  the  country  or  in  the  city.  In  all  the  Continental 
countries,  as  soon  as  the  boy  reaches  the  age  when  his 
strength,  agility,  and  flexibility  have  reached  the  highest 
point,  while  his  spiritual  forces  are  in  a  most  dim  and  inde- 
terminate state  (about  twenty  years),  he  is  taken  into 
the  army,  is  examined  like  a  beast  of  burden,  and  when  he 
is  found  to  be  able-bodied,  he  is  attached  to  some  partic- 
ular part  of  the  army,  and  is  made  solemnly  to  swear  that 
he  will  slavishly  obey  his  superiors ;  then  he  is  removed 
from  all  the  former  conditions  of  his  hfe,  is  filled  up  with 
whiskey  or  beer,  is  dressed  up  in  motley  garments,  and  is 
with  other  lads  like  him  locked  up  in  barracks,  where 
he  is  in  absolute  idleness,  (that  is,  doing  no  useful  or 
rational  work),  is  taught  the  most  insipid  military  rules 


NEED    IT    BE    SO  ?  21 


o 


and  names  of  objects,  and  the  use  of  the  implements  of 
murder,  —  the  sword,  the  bayonet,  the  rifle,  the  camion^ 
—  and,  above  all,  is  taught,  not  only  blind,  but  even  me- 
chanically reflex  obedience  to  the  superiors  put  over  him. 
Thus  it  is  done  in  the  couutries  where  there  is  military 
service ;  where  it  does  not  exist,  men  specially  appointed  for 
the  purpose  look  up  for  the  most  part  dissipated,  but  strong 
men,  who  have  fallen  from  the  right  way  and  either  do  not 
wish,  or  are  unable  to  live  by  honest  labour,  fill  them  with 
liquor,  bribe  them,  and  enlist  them  in  the  army,  and  simi- 
larly shut  them  up  in  barracks  and  subject  them  to  the 
same  discipline.  The  chief  problem  of  the  superiors  con- 
sists in  bringing  these  men  to  the  state  of  the  frog  which, 
when  touched,  uncontrollably  jerks  its  leg.  A  good  soldier 
is  he  who,  hke  this  frog,  in  response  to  certain  shouts  of 
his  superior,  unconsciously  makes  the  motion  demanded. 
This  is  obtained  by  making  these  unfortunate  men,  who 
are  dressed  in  the  same  motley  uniform,  for  weeks,  months, 
and  years,  at  the  sound  of  the  drum  and  of  music,  walk, 
twist  around,  jump,  and  do  it  all  together,  in  a  body,  and 
by  command.  Every  failure  to  obey  is  punished  with 
the  most  cruel  punishments,  even  with  death.  With 
this,  drunkenness,  debauchery,  idleness,  vulgarity,  murder 
are  not  only  not  prohibited,  but  even  established :  the 
soldiers  are  given  whiskey,  houses  of  prostitution  are 
arranged  for  them,  they  are  taught  obscene  songs,  and  in- 
structed in  murder.  (Murder  is  in  this  circle  of  men 
considered  to  such  an  extent  a  good  and  praiseworthy 
matter  that  under  certain  conditions  the  superiors,  the 
officers,  are  demanded  to  kill  a  friend,  which  is  called  a 
duel.)  And  so  a  meek  and  peaceable  fellow,  after  having 
passed  in  such  a  school  about  a  year  (before  that  time  the 
soldier  is  not  yet  ready,  that  is,  he  has  still  some  human 
quaUties  left  in  him),  is  turned  into  what  he  is  wanted 
to  be,  —  a  senseless,  cruel,  mighty,  and  terrible  instru- 
ment of  violence  in  the  hands  of  his  superiors. 


214  NEED    IT    BE    SO? 

Whenever  I  in  the  winter  walk  in  Moscow  past  the 
palace,  and  near  the  booth  see  a  young  lad,  the  sentinel, 
who  in  his  heavy  sheepskin  fur  coat  is  standing  or  walk- 
ing, plashing  his  enormous  overshoes   on  the  sidewalk, 
supporting  on  his  shoulder  a  rilie  of  the  latest  fashion, 
with  its  bayonet  sharpened,  I  always  look  into  his  eyes, 
and  every  time  he  turns  his  glance  away  from  me,  and 
every  time  I  think:  a  year  or  two  years  ago  he  was  a 
merry  village  lad,  natural,  good-natured,  who  would  cheer- 
fully have  talked  to  me  in  his  good  Eussian,  telhng  me, 
with  the  consciousness  of  his  peasant  dignity,  his  whole  his- 
tory ;  now  he  looks  maliciously  and  gloomily  at  me,  and  to 
all  my  questions  knows  only  how  to  say,  "  Yes,  sir,"  and, 
"  Can't  know,  sir."     If  I  should  enter  through  the  door  at 
which  he  is  standing,  —  I  always  feel  hke  doing  so, — 
or  should  put  my  hand  on  Ms  gun,  he  would  without  a 
minute's  hesitation  stick  the  bayonet  through  my  abdomen, 
would  pull  the  bayonet  out  of  the  wound,  would  wipe  it 
off,  and  would  continue  to  walk,  plashing  with  his  over- 
shoes on  the  asphaltum,  until  the   arrival  of  the  relief 
with  the  corporal,  who  would  whisper  the  watchword  into 
his  ear.     And  he  is  not  the  only  one.     In  Moscow  "alone, 
I  think,  there  are  thousands  of  such  lads,  almost  children, 
who  are  turned  into  machines  and  are  armed  with  guns. 
There  are  millions  of  them  in  the  whole  of  Russia  and  in 
the  whole  world.     These  unthinking,  but  strong  and  agile 
lads  are  picked  up,  corrupted,  and  bribed,  and,  thanks  to 
them,  the  world  is  held  in  subjection.     All  that  is  terrible. 
What  is 'terrible  is  this,  that  bad,  idle  people,  thanks  to 
these  deceived  men,  are  in  possession  of  all  those  palaces 
and  all  that  criminally  acquired  wealth,  that  is,  of  the 
labour  of  all  the  masses.      But  most  terrible  is  this,  that, 
to  do  so,  they  have  to  bestialize  these  simple,  good  fellows, 
and  in  this  they  have  partly  succeeded. 

Let  those  who  own  wealth  defend  it  themselves.    That 
would  not  be  so  disgusting.     But  what  is  terrible  is  this, 


NEED    IT    BE    SO  ?  215 

that,  to  rob  the  people  and  defend  what  has  been  stolen, 
they  use  those  very  people  whom  they  rob,  and  for  this 
purpose  corrupt  their  souls. 

Thus  the  soldiers,  taken  from  the  labouring  classes, 
use  violence  against  their  own  brother  labourers,  because 
there  exists  a  means  for  making  of  people  an  unconscious 
instrument  of  murder,  and  the  governments,  in  drafting 
or  enhsting  soldiers,  make  use  of  that  means  in  regard  to 
them. 


But  if  that  is  so,  there  involuntarily  appears  the 
question  as  to  why  people  become  soldiers.  Why  do 
their  fathers  let  them  become  soldiers  ? 

They  could  become  soldiers  and  be  subject  to  discipline 
so  long  as  they  did  not  see  the  consequences  of  it.  But, 
having  once  come  to  see  what  results  from  it,  why  do 
they  continue  to  subject  themselves  to  this  deception  ? 

This  is  due  to  the  fact  that  they  consider  mihtary 
service  not  only  useful,  but  unquestionably  honourable 
and  good.  And  they  consider  it  such,  because  they  have 
been  impressed  with  it  by  that  doctrine  to  which  they 
are  subjected  from  their  childhood  and  in  which  they  are 
maintained  in  their  adult  age. 

And  so  the  existence  of  the  army  is  also  no  fundamental 
cause,  but  only  an  effect.  The  fundamental  cause  is  to 
be  found  in  that  doctrine  which  is  inculcated  upon  people, 
that  military  service,  which  has  for  its  purpose  the  killing 
of  men,  is  not  only  sinless,  but  also  good,  virtuous,  and 
praiseworthy.  Thus  the  cause  of  the  wretched  condition 
of  the  men  hes  still  farther  away  than  it  seems  to  afc 
first. 

At  first  it  seems  that  the  whole  matter  lies  in  this,  that 
the  landowners  have  seized  the  land,  the  capitalists  have 
taken  possession  of  the  implements  of  labour,  wliile  the 
government  takes  forcil)ly  the  taxes ;  but  when  one  asks 


216  NEED    IT    BE    SO? 

himself  why  the  land  belongs  to  the  rich  and  the  working 
people  cannot  make  use  of  it,  and  why  not  the  work- 
ing people,  but  the  capitalists,  are  in  possession  of  the  im- 
plements of  production,  one  sees  that  this  is  due  to  the 
fact  that  there  is  an  army  which  secures  the  land  to 
the  rich,  collects  the  taxes  from  the  labourers  for  the  use 
of  the  rich,  and  secures  the  factories  and  the  expensive 
machines  to  the  rich.  If  one  asks  oneself  how  it  is  that 
the  working  people,  who  form  the  army  and  from  whom 
everything  is  taken  which  they  need,  attack  themselves, 
their  fathers  and  brothers,  one  sees  that  the  cause  of  it 
is  this,  that  the  drafted  or  enlisted  soldiers  are,  by  means 
of  methods  specially  adapted  for  the  purpose,  instructed 
in  such  a  way  that  they  lose  everything  human  and  are 
turned  into  unconscious  instruments  of  murder,  ever 
submissive  to  their  superiors.  When,  finally,  one  asks 
oneself  why  people,  seeing  such  deception,  continue  to 
enter  the  army  or  to  pay  taxes  to  hire  an  army,  one  sees 
that  the  cause  of  it  hes  in  the  doctrine,  which  is  inculcated, 
not  only  upon  those  who  are  taken  into  the  army,  but 
also  upon  all  men  alike,  —  a  doctrine  according  to  which 
military  service  is  a  good  and  praiseworthy  cause,  and 
murder  in  war  is  innocent. 

Thus  the  fundamental  cause  of  everything  is  the  doctrine 
which  is  inculcated  upon  the  people. 

From  this  come  poverty,  and  debauchery,  and  hatred, 
and  punishments,  and  murder. 

What  is  this  doctrine  ? 

This  doctrine  is  called  Christian,  and  consists  in  the 
following :  there  is  a  God,  who  six  thousand  years  ago 
created  the  world  and  the  man  Adam.  Adam  sinned, 
and  God  for  this  punished  all  men,  and  then  sent  His  son, 
just  such  a  God  as  the  Father,  down  upon  earth,  to  have 
Him  hanged  there  !  This  very  hanging  serves  to  men  as  a 
means  of  redemption  from  their  punishment  for  Adam's 
sin. 


NEED    IT    BE    SO  ?  217 

If  people  believe  in  this,  they  will  be  forgiven  Adam's 
sin ;  if  they  do  not,  they  will  be  punished  cruelly.  -  The 
proof  of  all  this  being  true  is  found  in  the  fact  that  all 
this  was  revealed  to  men  by  that  same  God,  about  whose 
existence  we  have  learned  from  those  same  men  who 
preach  all  that.  To  say  nothing  of  the  different  variations 
in  this  fundamental  doctrine,  in  accordance  with  the 
different  denominations,  the  general  practical  deduction 
from  it  in  all  the  denominations  is  the  same,  namely,  that 
men  must  believe  in  what  is  preached  to  them  and  must 
obey  the  existing  authorities. 

It  is  this  doctrine  that  forms  the  fundamental  cause 
of  the  deception,  according  to  which  people,  considering 
military  service  to  be  useful  and  good,  enter  the  army, 
and,  being  turned  into  machines  without  a  will,  oppress 
themselves.  If  there  are  unbelievers  among  the  deceived, 
these  unbelievers  do  not  believe  in  anything  else,  and,  in 
consequence,  since  they  have  no  point  of  support,  submit, 
like  the  believers,  to  the  general  current,  although  they 
see  the  deception. 

And  so,  to  destroy  the  evil  from  which  men  suffer,  we 
need,  not  the  liberation  of  the  laud,  nor  the  abolition  of 
the  taxes,  nor  the  nationalization  of  the  implements  of  pro- 
duction, nor  even  the  overthrow  of  the  existing  govern- 
ment, but  the  destruction  of  that  false  doctrine,  called 
Christian,  in  which  the  men  of  our  time  are  brought  up. 


At  first  it  seems  strange  to  people  who  know  the 
Gospel  how  it  was  possible  for  Christianity,  which  preaches 
the  sonhood  to  God,  spiritual  freedom,  the  brotherhood  of 
men,  the  abolition  of  all  violence,  and  the  love  of  our 
neighbours,  to  have  degenerated  into  this  strange  doctrine, 
called  Christian,  which  preaches  blind  obedience  to  the 
authorities,  and  murder,  whenever  the  authorities  demand 


218  NEED    IT    BE  SO? 

it.  But  when  one  stops  to  think  of  the  process  by  means 
of  which  Christianity  has  entered  into  the  world,  one  sees 
that  it  could  not  have  been  otherwise. 

When  the  pagan  sovereigns,  Constantino,  Charlemagne, 
Vladimir,  accepted  Christianity,  which  was  swaddled  in 
pagan  forms,  and  baptized  their  nations  into  it,  it  did  not 
even  occur  to  them  that  the  teaching  which  they  accepted 
disrupted  their  regal  power,  and  the  army,  and  the  state 
itself;  that  is,  all  that  without  which  life  could  not  be 
imagined  by  all  those  who  were  the  first  to  accept  and 
introduce  Christianity.  The  destructive  force  of  Chris- 
tianity at  first  was  not  at  all  perceptible  to  men  ;  on  the 
contrary,  they  thought  that  Christianity  supported  their 
power.  But  the  longer  the  Christian  nations  existed,  the 
clearer  and  clearer  became  the  essence  of  Christianity, 
and  the  more  obvious  became  the  danger  with  which 
Christianity  threatened  the  pagan  order.  The  more  this 
danger  became  obvious,  the  more  carefully  did  the  ruhng 
classes  try  to  subdue  and,  if  possible,  to  put  out  the  fire, 
which  they  unconsciously  brought  into  the  world  together 
with  Christianity.  They  used  every  possible  means  for 
this,  —  the  prohibition  to  translate  and  read  the  gospels, 
the  slaying  of  all  those  who  pointed  out  the  true  mean- 
ing of  the  Christian  teaching,  the  hypnotization  of  the 
masses  by  means  of  the  solemnity  aud  splendour  of  sur- 
roundings, and,  above  all,  shrewd  and  refined  interpreta- 
tions of  the  Christian  tenets.  In  proportion  as  these 
means  were  used,  Christianity  changed  more  and  more, 
and  finally  became  a  doctrine  which  had  in  itself  nothing 
dangerous  for  the  pagan  order  of  things,  and  even  justified 
the  pagan  order  from  an  apparently  Christian  point  of 
view.  There  appeared  even  Christian  rulers,  and  a  Christ- 
loving  army,  and  Christian  wealth,  and  Christian  courts, 
and  Christian  punishments. 

The  ruling  classes  did  the  same  in  relation  to  Chris- 
tianity that  physicians  do  in  relation  to  infectious  diseases. 


NEED    IT    BE    SO?  219 

They  worked  out  a  culture  of  harmless  Christianity, 
which,  when  inoculated,  makes  the  real  Christianity  in- 
nocuous. This  ecclesiastic  Christianity  is  such  that  it 
inevitably  either  repels  sensible  people,  presenting  itself 
to  them  as  a  terrible  insipidity,  or,  being  adopted  by  men, 
to  such  an  extent  removes  them  from  true  Christianity 
that  through  it  they  no  longer  see  its  real  significance 
and  even  look  upon  its  true  significance  with  hostility  and 
fury. 

It  is  this  innocuous,  false  Christianity,  which  from  a 
sense  of  self-preservation  has  been  worked  out  through  the 
ages  among  the  ruling  classes,  and  with  which  the  masses 
are  inoculated,  which  forms  the  doctrine  in  consequence  of 
which  men  calmly  commit  acts  that  are  harmful  to  them- 
selves and  to  their  neighbours,  and  that  are  even  directly 
immoral  and  incompatible  with  the  demands  of  con- 
science, the  most  important  of  which,  from  its  practical 
consequences,  is  the  entrance  into  the  army,  that  is,  the 
readiness  to  commit  murder. 

The  harm  of  this  innocuous,  false  Christianity  consists 
chiefly  in  this,  that  it  prescribes  nothing  and  forbids  noth- 
ing. All  the  ancient  teachings  —  like  the  law  of  Moses 
and  the  law  of  Manu  —  give  rules  which  demand  or  for- 
bid certain  acts ;  such  also  are  the  Buddhist  and  the 
Mohammedan  religions  ;  but  the  ecclesiastic  faith  gives  no 
rules  whatever,  except  a  verbal  confession,  the  recognition 
of  dogmas,  fasts,  holy  sacrament,  prayers  (and  for  these 
even  excuses  have  been  invented  for  the  rich),  but  only 
lies,  and  permits  everything,  even  what  is  contrary  to  the 
lowest  demands  of  morality.  According  to  this  ecclesi- 
astic faith  everything  is  allowed :  it  is  allowed  to  own 
slaves  (in  Europe  and  in  America  the  church  has  been  the 
defender  of  slavery) ;  it  is  allowed  to  acquire  wealth, 
which  is  got  through  the  labour  of  our  oppressed  brothers  ; 
it  is  not  only  allowed  to  be  rich  amidst  Lazaruses  who 
crawl  under  the  tables  of  the  feasting,  but  it  is  even  good 


220  NEED    IT    BE    SO  ? 

and  laudable  to  do  so,  if  one-thousandth  is  contributed  for 
churches  and  hospitals.  The  church  gives  its  blessing  to 
the  forcible  defence  of  our  wealth  against  the  needy, 
to  the  imprisonment  of  men  in  solitary  cells,  to  chaining 
them  up,"  to  fastening  them  to  wheelbarrows,  and  to  ex- 
ecuting them ;  it  is  allowed  to  commit  debauchery  during 
one's  whole  youth,  and  then  to  call  one  such  debauchery 
marriage  and  get  the  church's  permission  for  it ;  it  is 
allowed  to  get  a  divorce  and  again  be  married ;  it  is  pos- 
sible, above  all,  to  kill,  not  only  in  one's  own  defence,  but 
also  in  defence  of  one's  apples,  and  as  a  punishment 
(punishment  means  instruction,  —  to  kill  as  an  instruc- 
tion ! ),  and,  above  all  else,  it  is  right  and  laudable  to  kill 
in  war,  by  command  of  the  authorities  —  the  church  not 
only  permits,  but  even  commands  it. 

Thus  the  root  of  all  is  in  the  false  doctrine. 

Let  the  false  doctrine  be  destroyed,  and  there  will  be  no 
army ;  and  if  there  is  no  army,  there  will  naturally  be 
destroyed  all  the  acts  of  violence,  the  oppression,  the  cor- 
ruption, which  now  are  practised  on  the  nations.  But  so 
long  as  men  shall  be  brought  up  in  the  pseudo-Christian 
teaching,  which  permits  everything,  including  murder,  the 
army  will  be  in  the  hands  of  the  minority ;  and  this 
minority  will  always  make  use  of  this  army  for  the  pur- 
pose of  depriving  the  masses  of  the  products  of  their 
labour  and,  what  is  still  worse,  for  the  corruption  of  the 
masses,  because  without  the  corruption  of  the  masses  it 
could  not  take  away  from  them  the  products  of  their 
labours. 

8 

The  root  of  all  the  wretchedness  of  the  masses  lies  in 
that  false  doctrine  which  is  taught  to  them  under  guise  of 
Christianity. 

And  so  it  would  seem  to  be  obvious  that  the  duty  of 
every  man  who  has  freed  himself  frona  the  religious  de- 


NEED   IT   BE   SO?  221 

ception  and  who  wishes  to  serve  the  masses  is  in  words 
and  deeds  to  help  the  deceived  men  to  free  themselves 
from  that  deception,  which  forms  the  cause  of  their 
wretched  condition.  It  would  seem  that,  besides  the 
general  duty  of  every  moral  man  to  arraign  the  lies  and 
profess  the  truth  which  he  knows,  every  one  who  wishes 
to  serve  the  masses  cannot  help  but  wish  out  of  sympathy 
to  free  his  brothers  from  the  deception  which  causes  them 
all  kinds  of  unhappiness  and  in  which  they  abide.  And 
yet  these  same  people,  who  are  free  from  the  deception, 
are  independent,  and  have  been  educated  at  the  expense 
of  the  working  classes,  and  for  this  reason  alone  are 
obliged  to  serve  them,  but  fail  to  see  this. 

"  The  religious  teaching  is  not  important,"  say  these 
people.  "  It  is  a  matter  for  each  man's  conscience.  What 
is  important  and  necessary  is  the  political,  social,  eco- 
nomic structure  of  society,  and  to  this  should  be  directed 
all  the  efforts  of  men  who  wish  to  serve  the  masses.  But 
the  religious  teachings  are  all  of  them  of  no  importance, 
and,  Hke  all  superstitions,  they  will  disappear  in  their 
time." 

Thus  speak  the  cultured  people,  and,  wishing  to  serve 
the  masses,  some  of  them  enter  the  service  of  the  govern- 
ment,—  the  army,  the  clergy,  the  parliament, —  and  try, 
without  arraigning  the  religious  deception  in  which  the 
masses  are,  by  their  participation  in  the  governmental 
activity  to  improve  the  external  forms  of  the  life  of  the 
deceived  masses ;  others,  the  revolutionists,  who  just  as 
little  touch  upon  the  beliefs  of  the  masses,  enter  into  a 
struggle  with  the  governments,  trying  to  take  possession 
of  the  power  by  the  same  means  of  deception  and  vio- 
lence that  are  practised  by  the  governments;  others 
again,  the  socialists,  establish  labour-unions,  societies, 
strikes,  assuming  that  the  condition  of  the  masses,  in  spite 
of  their  remaining  in  the  same  error  of  superstition  and 
ignorance  which  is  produced  by  the  false  doctrine,  can  be 


222  NEED    IT    BE    SO  ? 

ameliorated.  But  none  of  them  hinder  the  dissemination 
of  the  false  religion,  on  which  all  the  evil  is  based,  and 
when  the  necessity  for  it  arises,  they  even  perform  the 
religious  rites,  which  they  consider  to  be  false,  —  they 
themselves  take  the  oath,  take  part  in  divine  services  and 
solemnities  which  stultify  the  masses,  and  do  not  interfere 
with  the  instruction  given  to  their  own  children  and  to 
those  of  others  in  what  is  called  religion,  that  very  he  on 
which  the  enslavement  of  the  masses  is  based.  This 
failure  to  comprehend  in  what  lies  the  main  cause  of  the 
evil  (and  the  cultured  people  could  and  should  more 
than  any  others  help  destroy  this  false  doctrine),  and  to 
what  all  their  efforts  ought  more  particularly  to  be 
directed,  and  the  deviation  of  the  efforts  upon  false  paths, 
form  one  of  the  chief  causes  why  the  existing  structure 
of  life,  which  is  obviously  false  and  pernicious  for  people, 
is  persistently  maintained,  in  spite  of  its  well-recognized 
incompatibility. 

All  the  calamities  of  our  world  are  due  to  this,  that  the 
true  Christian  teaching,  which  corresponds  to  the  de- 
mands of  our  time,  is  concealed  from  men,  and  that  in  its 
place  a  false  doctrine  is  preached. 

If  the  men  who  want  to  serve  God  and  their  neigh- 
bours only  comprehended  that  humanity  is  not  moved  by 
animal  demands,  but  by  spiritual  forces,  that  the  chief 
spiritual  force  which  moves  humanity  is  religion,  that  is, 
the  determination  of  the  meaning  of  life,  and,  in  conse- 
quence of  this  meaning,  the  distinction  between  good  and 
evil,  and  between  what  is  important  and  unimportant. 
If  men  only  understood  that,  they  would  see  at  once  that 
the  fundamental  cause  of  the  calamities  of  humanity  at 
present  does  not  lie  in  external  material  causes,  —  not  in 
political,  nor  in  economic  conditions,  but  in  the  distortion 
of  the  Christian  rehgion :  in  the  substitution  for  the 
truths  needed  by  humanity  and  corresponding  to  its 
present  age,  of  a  collection  of  senseless,  immoral  insipidi- 


NEED    IT    BE    SO  ?  223 

ties  and  blasphemies,  called  the  ecclesiastic  faith,  by 
means  of  which  what  is  not  good  is  considered  good,  and 
what  is  unimportant  is  considered  important,  and  vice 
versa,  —  what  is  good  is  considered  bad,  and  what  is 
important  —  unimportant. 

If  only  the  best,  the  independent  people,  who  sincerely 
wish  to  serve  the  masses,  understood  that  it  is  impossible 
by  any  external  measures  to  improve  the  condition  of  a 
man  who  considers  it  bad  to  eat  meat  on  Friday  and  good 
to  punish  a  guilty  man  with  death,  and  important  to 
show  proper  respect  for  an  image  or  for  the  emperor,  and 
unimportant  to  swear  to  do  the  will  of  other  people 
and  to  learn  to  commit  murder ;  if  men  only  understood 
that  no  parhaments,  strikes,  unions,  consumers'  and  pro- 
ducers' leagues,  inventions,  schools,  universities,  and 
academies,  no  revolutions,  can  be  of  any  essential  value 
to  people  with  a  false  religious  world-conception,  all  the 
forces  of  the  best  people  would  naturally  be  directed 
upon  the  cause,  and  not  upon  the  effect,  —  not  upon  the 
state  activity,  upon  revolutions,  upon  sociahsm,  but  upon 
the  arraignment  of  the  false  religious  doctrine  and  the 
establishment  of  the  true  teaching. 

If  men  would  only  act  thus,  all  the  political,  econom- 
ical, and  social  questions  would  solve  themselves  naturally, 
as  they  ought  to  be  solved,  and  not  as  we  foretell  or 
prescribe. 

All  these  questions  will,  naturally,  not  be  solved  at 
once  and  according  to  our  wish,  as  we  are  accustomed 
to  arrange  the  lives  of  other  people,  caring  only  for  this, 
that  externally  these  Hves  should  resemble  what  we  want 
them  to  be  (precisely  what  all  the  governments  are 
doing) ;  but  these  questions  will  certainly  be  solved, 
if  only  the  religious  world-conception  of  the  peoj^le  shall 
be  changed,  and  they  will  be  solved  the  more  quickly, 
the  more  we  shall  apply  our  forces,  not  to  the  effects,  but 
to  the  causes  of  phenomena. 


224  NEED    IT   BE    SO? 

But  the  arraignment  of  the  false  religion  and  the  asser- 
tion of  the  true  religion  are  a  very  distant  and  slow 
means,  we  are  told.  Whether  it  be  distant  or  slow,  it  is 
the  only  means,  or,  at  least,  such  that  without  it  all  other 
means  will  be  ineffective. 

As  I  look  at  the  structure  of  human  life,  which  is  con- 
trary to  reason  and  to  feeling,  I  ask  myself :  "  Need  it  be 
so?" 

And  the  answer  at  which  I  arrive  is,  that  it  need  not 
be  so. 

It  need  not  be,  it  must  not  be,  and  it  will  not  be. 

But  it  will  not  be,  not  when  men  shall  in  one  way  or 
another  reconstruct  their  relations,  but  only  when  men 
shall  stop  believing  in  the  lie  in  which  they  are  brought 
up,  and  shall  believe  in  the  highest  truth,  which  was  re- 
vealed nineteen  hundred  years  ago,  and  which  is  clear, 
simple,  and  accessible  to  their  reason. 

Ydsnaya  Polydna,  October  14,  1900. 


ANSWER 

To  the  Decree  of  the  Synod  of  February  10—11 
and  to  Letters  Received  by  Me  on  That 
Occasion 

I 


^^' 


o 
s 

Si 

O 


e 

a. 

Ex 


ANSWER 

To  the  Decree  of  the  Synod  of  February  20-22 
and  to  Letters  Received  by  Me  on  That 
Occasion 


"  He  who  begins  by  loving  Christianity  better  than  truth 
will  proceed  by  loving  his  own  sect  or  church  better  than 
Christianity,  and  end  in  loving  himself  better  than  all."  — 
Coleridge. 

At  first  I  had  no  intention  of  answering  the  decree  of 
the  Synod  concerning  me,  but  this  decree  called  forth  a 
very  large  number  of  letters,  in  which  correspondents 
who  are  unknown  to  me  either  scold  me  for  denying 
what  I  do  not  deny,  or  admonish  me  to  believe  in  what  I 
have  not  stopped  believing  in,  or  again  express  their  fel- 
lowship of  ideas  with  me,  which  hardly  exists  in  reality, 
and  their  sympathy,  to  which  I  have  hardly  a  right ;  and 
so  I  have  decided  to  answer  the  decree  itself,  pointing  out 
what  is  unjust  in  it,  and  the  letters  of  my  correspondents, 
whom  I  do  not  know. 

The  decree  of  the  Synod  has,  in  general,  very  many 
faults.  It  is  illegal,  or  intentionally  ambiguous ;  it  is 
arbitrary,  ungrounded,  untruthful,  and,  besides,  contains 
Hbel  and  incitements  to  evil  sentiments  and  acts. 

It  is  illegal,  or  intentionally  ambiguous,  because,  if  it  is 
meant  to  be  an  excommunication  from  the  church,  it  does 
not  satisfy  those  ecclesiastic  rules  by  which  such  an  ex- 

227 


228  ANSWER  TO  THE  DECREE  OF  THE  SYNOD 

communication  may  be  pronounced ;  but  if  it  is  a  declara- 
tion that  he  who  does  not  beheve  in  the  church  and  its 
dogmas  does  not  belong  to  it,  that  is  self-understood,  and 
such  a  declaration  can  have  no  other  aim  than  this,  that, 
though  it  is  in  reality  not  an  excommunication,  it  may 
appear  as  such,  which  actually  happened,  for  it  was  under- 
stood as  such. 

It  is  arbitrary,  because  it  accuses  me  alone  of  unbelief 
in  all  the  points  mentioned  in  the  decree,  whereas  not 
only  many  persons,  but  almost  all  educated  people  share 
such  unbelief,  and  have  constantly  expressed  it  in  conver- 
sations, and  in  writing,  and  in  pamphlets,  and  in  books. 

It  is  ungrounded,  because  as  the  chief  cause  for  its 
issuance  is  given  the  great  dissemination  of  false  doctrine, 
which  corrupts  people,  whereas  it  is  well  known  to  me 
that  there  are  hardly  a  hundred  men  who  share  my  views, 
and  that  the  dissemination  of  my  ideas  about  religion, 
thanks  to  the  censorship,  is  so  insignificant  that  the 
majority  of  men  who  have  read  the  decree  of  the  Senate 
have  not  the  slightest  idea  as  to  what  I  have  written 
about  religion,  as  may  be  seen  from  the  letters  which  I 
have  received. 

It  contains  an  obvious  untruth,  because  it  says  in  it 
that  on  the  part  of  the  church  there  have  been  made 
attempts  at  appealing  to  my  conscience,  but  that  they 
were  not  successful.  Nothing  of  the  kind  has  ever  hap- 
pened. 

It  represents  what  in  juridical  language  is  called  a 
libel,  because  it  contains  professedly  untrue  statements, 
which  are  intended  to  injure  me. 

It  is,  finally,  an  incitement  to  bad  sentiments  and  acts, 
because  it  has  provoked,  as  was  to  have  been  expected,  in 
unenlightened  and  unthinking  people  malice  and  hatred 
against  me,  which  rise  to  threats  of  assassination  and  are 
expressed  in  the  letters  received  by  me :  "  Now  you 
are  given  over  to  anathema,  and  after  your  death  you  will 


ANSWER  TO  THE  DECREE  OF  THE  SYNOD  229 

go  to  everlasting  torments  and  will  die  like  a  dog  — 
anathema,  old  devil  —  be  cursed,"  writes  one.  Another 
rebukes  the  government  for  not  having  yet  locked  me  up 
in  a  monastery,  and  fills  his  letter  with  curses.  A  third 
writes :  "  If  the  government  does  not  take  you  away,  we 
will  ourselves  make  you  shut  up ; "  the  letter  ends  with 
curses.  "To  make  an  end  of  you,  scavenger,  we  shall 
find  the  means  for  it,"  writes  a  fourth;  there  follow  in- 
decent curses.  Similar  signs  of  mahce  I  have,  siuce  the 
decree  of  the  Synod,  observed  in  meeting  certain  people. 
On  the  very  25th  of  February,  when  the  decree  was  pub- 
lished, I  heard,  as  I  crossed  a  square,  the  words,  "  Here  is 
a  devil  in  human  form,"  and  if  the  crowd  had  been  dif- 
ferently composed,  it  is  very  likely  that  I  should  have 
been  beaten,  as  some  years  ago  they  beat  a  man  near 
Panteleymonov  Tower. 

Thus  the  decree  of  the  Synod  is  altogether  bad;  the 
fact  that  at  the  end  of  the  decree  it  says  that  the  persons 
signing  it  pray  that  I  may  become  such  as  they  are  does 
not  make  matters  any  better. 

So  it  is  in  general ;  in  particular  this  decree  is  not  just 
for  the  following  reasons.  In  the  decree  it  says:  "The 
world-known  writer,  Russian  by  birth,  Orthodox  by  bap- 
tism and  education.  Count  Tolstoy,  in  the  bhndness  of  his 
proud  mind,  boldly  arose  against  the  Lord  and  against 
His  Christ  and  His  sacred  charge,  and  openly,  in  the 
presence  of  all  men,  renounced  the  Orthodox  Mother 
Church,  which  has  nurtured  and  educated  him." 

That  I  have  renounced  the  church  which  calls  itself 
Orthodox  is  quite  true. 

But  I  have  not  renounced  it  because  I  arose  against 
the  Lord,  but,  on  the  contrary,  because  I  wished  with  all 
my  heart  to  serve  Him.  Before  renouncing  the  church 
and  the  union  with  the  people,  which  had  been  inexpress- 
ibly dear  to  me,  I,  having  from  certain  symptoms  come  to 
doubt  the  truth  of  the  church,  devoted  several  years  to  the 


230  ANSWER  TO  THE  DECREE  OF  THE  SYNOD 

theoretic  and  the  practical  investigation  of  the  church 
doctrine :  in  the  theoretic  investigation  I  read  everything 
I  could  about  the  church  doctrme,  and  studied  and  criti- 
cally analyzed  the  dogmatic  theology ;  in  the  practical  in- 
vestigation I  for  the  period  of  more  than  a  year  strictly 
followed  all  the  prescriptions  of  the  church,  observing  all 
the  fasts  and  all  the  church  celebrations.  And  I  con- 
vinced myself  that  the  doctrine  of  the  church  was  in 
theory  a  cunning  and  harmful  deceit,  and  in  practice  a 
collection  of  the  grossest  superstitions  and  sorcery,  which 
completely  conceals  the  whole  meaning  of  the  Christian 
teaching.^ 

I  actually  renounced  the  church,  stopped  executing  its 
rites,  and  asked  my  relatives  in  my  will  not  to  admit  any 
church  servants  at  my  death,  and  to  take  my  body  away 
as  quickly  as  possible,  without  any  magical  formulae  and 
prayers,  as  they  take  away  every  nauseating  and  useless 
thing,  that  it  may  not  trouble  the  living. 

But  as  to  its  saying  that  "I  devoted  my  literary 
activity  and  God-given  talent  to  the  dissemination  among 
the  masses  of  teachings  w^hich  are  contrary  to  Christ  and 
to  the  church,"  and  so  forth,  and  that  "  in  my  wr-itings 
and  letters  which  are  scattered  by  me  and  my  disciples  in 
great  numbers  all  over  the  world,  but  especially  within 
the  boundaries  of  our  beloved  country,  I  with  the  zeal  of 

1  We  need  only  read  the  ritual,  to  follow  those  ceremonies  which 
without  cessation  are  performed  by  the  Orthodox  clergy,  and  are  con- 
sidered to  be  Christian  divine  service,  to  see  that  all  these  ceremonies 
are  nothing  but  various  methods  of  sorcery,  adapted  for  all  incidents 
of  life.  For  a  child  after  death  to  go  to  heaven,  it  has  to  be  anointed 
with  oil  and  bathed  while  certain  words  are  enunciated  ;  for  a  woman 
in  childbirth  no  longer  to  be  unclean,  certain  magical  formulfe  have  to 
be  pronounced ;  for  success  in  some  affair  or  peaceful  life  in  a  new 
house,  for  a  crop  of  corn  to  be  good,  for  a  drought  to  be  broken,  for  a 
cure  from  some  disea,se,  for  an  improvement  in  the  condition  of  a  de- 
ceased man  in  the  other  world,  —  for  all  that  and  thousands  of  other 
circumstances  there  are  certain  magical  forniuhe,  which  in  return  for 
certain  offerings  are  pronounced  by  a  priest  in  a  certain  place. — 
Author'' s  Note. 


ANSWER  TO  THE  DECREE  OF  THE  SYNOD  231 

a  fanatic  preach  the  overthrow  of  all  the  dogmas  of  the 
Orthodox  Church  aud  of  the  very  essence  of  the  Christian 
religion,"  that  is  not  true.  I  have  never  had  any  thought 
as  to  the  dissemination  of  my  teaching.  It  is  true,  I  have 
for  my  own  sake  expressed  in  my  writings  my  understand- 
ing of  Christ's  teaching,  and  have  not  concealed  these 
writings  from  men  who  wished  to  become  acquainted  with 
them,  but  I  never  printed  them  myself,  and  I  told  people 
about  the  way  I  understood  Christ's  teaching  only  when 
I  was  asked  about  it.  To  such  people  I  told  what  I 
thought,  and  I  gave  them  my  books,  if  I  had  any. 

Then  it  says  that  I  deny  "  God,  the  Creator  and  Pro- 
vider of  the  universe,  glorified  in  the  Holy  Trinity,  and 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  God-man,  the  Eedeemer  and 
Saviour  of  the  world,  who  suffered  for  the  sake  of  us  men 
and  for  the  sake  of  our  salvation,  and  who  rose  from  the 
dead,"  and  that  I  deny  "  the  seedless  conception  of  the  Lord 
Christ  in  His  manhood,  and  the  virginity  of  the  Immacu- 
late Mother  of  God  before  and  after  His  birth."  It  is 
quite  true  that  I  deny  the  incomprehensible  Trinity,  the 
now  senseless  fable  about  the  fall  of  the  first  man,  the 
blasphemous  history  of  a  God  born  of  a  virgin,  who  re- 
deems the  human  race.  But  I  not  only  do  not  deny  God 
the  Spirit,  God  —  love,  the  one  God,  the  beginning  of 
everything,  but  even  do  not  recognize  anything  as  actually 
existing  outside  of  God,  and  see  the  whole  meaning  of  Kfe 
only  in  the  fulfilment  of  God's  wiU,  as  expressed  in  the 
Christian  teaching. 

Again  it  says :  "  He  does  not  recognize  the  life  after 
death,  and  retribution."  If  the  life  after  death  is  to  be 
taken  in  the  sense  of  the  second  advent,  hell  with  its  ever- 
lasting torments  and  devils,  and  heaven  —  a  constant 
bliss,  it  is  quite  true  that  I  do  not  recognize  such  a  life 
after  death ;  but  the  eternal  life  and  retribution  here  and 
everywhere  I  recognize  to  such  an  extent  that,  standing 
on  account  of  my  years  on  the  brink  of  the  grave,  I  have 


232  ANSWER  TO  THE  DECREE  OF  THE  SYNOD 

often  to  make  efforts  in  order  not  to  wish  for  carnal 
death,  that  is,  for  a  birth  to  a  new  life,  and  I  believe  that 
every  good  act  increases  the  true  good  of  my  everlasting 
life,  and  that  every  bad  act  diminishes  it. 

It  also  says  that  I  deny  all  the  sacraments.  That  is 
quite  true.  All  the  sacraments  I  consider  a  low,  coarse 
sorcery,  which  does  not  harmonize  with  the  conception  of 
a  God  and  with  the  Christian  teaching,  and,  besides,  is  a 
violation  of  the  directest  precepts  of  the  Gospel.  In  the 
baptism  of  children  I  see  an  obvious  distortion  of  all  that 
meaning  which  baptism  may  have  had  for  adults,  who 
consciously  accepted  Christianity ;  in  the  performance  of 
the  sacrament  of  marriage  on  people  who  are  known 
to  have  come  together  before,  and  in  the  admission  of 
divorces,  and  in  the  sanctifi cation  of  marriages  of  divorced 
people  I  see  a  direct  violation  of  the  meaning  and  the 
letter  of  the  Gospel  teaching. 

In  the  periodic  forgiveness  of  sins  at  confessions  I  see 
an  injurious  deception,  which  only  encourages  immorahty 
and  destroys  the  fear  of  sinning. 

In  the  unction  with  chrism,  as  well  as  in  the  anoint- 
ment, I  see  the  methods  of  gross  sorcery,  as  also  in  the 
worship  of  images  and  rehcs,  and  also  in  all  those  cere- 
monies, prayers,  incantations,  with  which  the  ritual  is 
filled.  In  communion  I  see  the  deification  of  the  flesh 
and  a  distortion  of  the  Christian  teaching.  In  priesthood 
I  see,  besides  an  obvious  preparation  for  deceit,  a  direct 
violation  of  the  words  of  Christ,  who  directly  forbade  any 
one  to  be  called  teacher,  father,  instructor  (Matt,  xxiii. 
8-10). 

It  says,  finally,  that,  as  the  last  and  highest  degree  of 
my  guilt,  "  I  make  light  of  the  most  sacred  objects  of  faith, 
and  have  not  stopped  before  ridiculing  the  most  sacred  of 
sacraments,  —  the  Eucharist."  It  is  quite  true  that  I 
have  not  stopped  before  describing  simply  and  objectively 
what  a  priest  does  for  the  preparation  of  this  so-called 


ANSWER  TO  THE  DECREE  OF  THE  SYNOD  233 

sacrament ;  but  it  is  quite  untrue  that  this  so-called  sacra- 
ment is  something  sacred  and  that  it  is  blasphemy  to 
describe  it  simply,  just  as  it  is  done.  It  is  not  blasphemy 
to  call  a  partition  a  partition  and  not  an  iconostasis,  a  cup 
a  cup,  and  not  a  poterion,  and  so  forth  ;  but  it  is  a  terrible, 
unceasing,  shocking  blasphemy  for  people  to  use  all  the 
possible  means  of  deceit  and  hypnotizatiou,  and  to  assure 
the  children  and  the  simple  masses  that,  if  bits  of  bread 
are  cut  in  a  certain  way  and  while  pronouncing  certain 
words,  and  are  put  into  wine,  God  enters  into  these  bits ; 
that  he  in  whose  name,  when  living,  a  bit  is  taken  out, 
will  be  well,  and  that  he  in  whose  name,  when  dead,  such 
a  piece  is  taken  out,  will  fare  better  in  the  world  to  come  ; 
and  that  into  him  who  eats  this  piece  God  will  enter. 

That  is  terrible ! 

No  matter  how  one  may  understand  Christ's  personal- 
ity, His  teaching,  which  destroys  the  evil  of  the  world, 
which  so  simply,  easily,  and  indubitably  gives  the  good 
to  men,  if  only  they  shall  not  distort  it,  —  this  teaching  is 
all  concealed,  all  changed  into  a  gi-oss  sorcery  of  bathing, 
smearing  with  oil,  motions  of  the  body,  incantations,  swal- 
lowing of  pieces,  and  so  forth,  so  that  nothing  is  left  of 
the  teaching.  And  if  any  man  tries  to  remind  these 
people  that  Christ's  teaching  is  not  in  these  sorceries,  not 
in  Te  Deums,  masses,  tapers,  images,  but  in  this,  that  men 
should  love  one  another,  should  not  pay  evil  with  evil, 
should  not  judge,  should  not  kill  one  another,  there  arises 
the  indignation  of  those  to  whom  this  deception  is  advan- 
tageous, and  these  men  in  the  hearing  of  all  and  with 
incredible  boldness  say  in  the  churches  and  print  in 
books,  newspapers,  and  catechisms  that  Christ  never  for- 
*i  bade  swearing  (oath  of  allegiance),  never  forbade  murder 
(executions,  wars),  and  that  the  doctrine  of  non-resist- 
ance to  evil  was  with  satanic  cunning  invented  by  Christ's 
foes.i 

1  Speech  of  Amvrdsi,  the  Bishop  of  Khdrkov.  —  Author's  Note. 


234  ANSWER  TO  THE  DECEEE  OF  THE  SYNOD 

What  above  all  else  is  terrible  is  this,  that  people  to 
whom  this  is  advantageous  deceive  not  only  adults,  but, 
since  they  have  the  power  for  it,  children  also,  those  same 
children  of  whom  Christ  says  that  woe  shall  be  to  him 
who  shall  deceive  them.  What  is  terrible  is  this,  that' 
these  men  for  the  sake  of  their  petty  advantages  do  such 
a  terrible  evil,  by  concealing  from  men  the  truth  which  was 
revealed  by  Christ  and  which  gives  the  good,  and  not  one- 
thousandth  part  of  which  is  balanced  by  advantage  which 
they  derive  from  the  evil.  They  act  like  that  robber  who 
kills  a  whole  family,  five  or  six  people,  in  order  to  carry 
off  an  old  sleeveless  coat  and  forty  kopeks  in  money.  They 
would  have  gladly  given  him  all  their  apparel  and  all 
their  money,  if  only  he  would  not  kill  them ;  but  he  can- 
not act  differently. 

The  same  is  true  of  religious  deceivers.  They  could 
be  supported  ten  times  better,  in  the  greatest  luxury,  if 
only  they  did  not  ruin  people  with  their  deceit.  But 
they  cannot  act  differently.  It  is  this  that  is  so  terrible. 
And  so  it  is  not  only  possible,  but  even  necessary  to 
arraign  their  deception.  If  there  is  anything  sacred,  it  is 
certainly  not  that  which  they  call  a  sacrament,  but  ■  this 
duty  of  arraigning  their  religious   deception,  when   you 

see  it. 

When  a  Chuvash  smears  his  idol  with  cream  and 
scourges  it,  I  can  do  so  as  not  to  offend  his  belief,  and 
pass  by  with  equanimity,  because  he  does  this  in  the 
name  of  his  superstition,  which  is  alien  to  me,  and  this 
does  not  touch  on  what  is  sacred  to  me ;  but  when  people 
with  their  savage  superstition,  no  matter  how  many  there 
may  be  of  them,  how  old  their  superstition  may  be,  or  how 
powerful  they  may  be,  —  in  the  name  of  that  God  by  ^ 
whom  I  live,  and  of  that  teaching  of  Christ  which  gave 
me  life  and  may  give  it  to  all  men,  —  preach  gross  sorcery, 
I  cannot  look  on  in  peace.  And  if  I  call  by  name  what 
they  do,  I   do  only   what  I   must,  what    I   cannot  help 


ANSWER  TO  THE  DECREE  OF  THE  SYNOD  235 

doing,  if  I  believe  in  God  and  the  Christian  teaching. 
But  if  they  call  the  arraignment  of  their  deception  a 
blasphemy,  that  only  proves  the  force  of  their  deception, 
and  must  only  increase  the  efibrts  of  men  who  believe  in 
God  and  in  Christ's  teaching,  in  order  to  destroy  this 
deception,  which  conceals  the  true  God  from  men. 

Of  Christ,  who  drove  the  oxen,  the  sheep,  and  the 
money-changers  out  of  the  temple,  they  must  have  said 
that  He  was  blaspheming. 

If  He  were  to  come  now  and  see  what  is  being  done  in 
His  name  in  the  church,  He  would  with  greater  and  more 
legitimate  anger  throw  out  all  those  terrible  corporales, 
Eucharist  spears,  crosses,  cups,  tapers,  images,  and  all  that 
by  means  of  w^hich  they,  committing  sorceries,  conceal  God 
and  His  teaching  from  men.  So  this  is  what  is  true  and 
untrue  in  the  Synod's  decree  concerning  me.  I  really  do 
not  believe  in  what  they  say  they  believe.  But  I  believe 
in  much  of  what  they  wish  to  assure  people  that  I  do  not 
believe  in. 

What  I  beheve  in  is  this :  I  beheve  in  God,  whom  I 
understand  as  Spirit,  as  Love,  as  the  beginning  of  every- 
thing. I  believe  that  He  is  in  me  and  I  in  Him.  I 
believe  that  God's  will  is  most  clearly  and  comprehen- 
sibly expressed  in  the  teaching  of  the  man  Christ,  whom 
to  understand  as  God  and  pray  to  I  consider  the  great- 
est blasphemy.  I  beheve  that  the  greatest  true  good 
of  man  is  the  fulfilment  of  God's  will,  but  His  will  is  this, 
that  men  should  love  one  another  and  in  consequence  of 
this  should  treat  others  as  they  wish  that  others  should 
treat  them,  as,  indeed,  it  says  in  the  Gospel  that  in  this 
is  all  the  law  and  the  prophets.  I  believe  that  the  mean- 
ing of  the  life  of  every  man  is,  therefore,  only  in  the 
augmentation  of  love  in  himself ;  that  this  augmentation 
of  love  leads  the  individual  man  in  this  life  to  a  greater 
and  ever  greater  good,  and  gives  after  death  a  greater 
good,  the  greater  the  love  is  in  man,  and  at  the  same  time 


236  ANSWER  TO  THE  DECREE  OP  THE  SYNOD 

more  than  anything  else  contributes  to  the  establishment 
of  the  kingdom  of  God  in  the  world,  that  is,  of  an  order  of 
life  with  which  the  now  existing  discord,  deception,  and 
violence  will  give  way  to  free  agreement,  truth,  and 
brotherly  love  of  men  among  themselves.  I  believe  that 
there  is  but  one  means  for  success  in  love,  and  that  is 
prayer,  not  public  prayer  in  temples,  which  is  directly 
forbidden  by  Christ  (Matt.  vi.  5-13),  but  such  as  Christ 
has  given  us  an  example  of,  —  solitary  prayer,  which  con- 
sists in  the  establishment  and  strengthening  in  our  con- 
sciousness of  the  meaning  of  our  life  and  our  independence 
of  everything  except  God's  will. 

Whether  these  my  beliefs  offend,  pain,  or  tempt  any 
one,  or  interfere  with  anything  or  any  one,  or  displease 
any  one,  —  I  can  change  them  as  little  as  I  can  change 
my  body.  I  have  to  live  myself,  die  myself  (and  very 
soon  at  that),  and  so  I  can  absolutely  not  believe  other- 
wise than  I  do,  while  getting  ready  to  go  to  that  God 
from  whom  I  have  come.  I  do  not  beheve  that  my  faith 
is  unchangeable  and  incontestably  true  for  all  times,  but 
I  do  not  see  any  other,  —  one  which  is  more  simple  and 
clear,  and  which  answers  all  the  demands  of  my  mind  and 
heart ;  when  I  find  such  a  one,  I  will  accept  it  at  once, 
because  God  needs  nothing  but  the  truth.  But  I  am 
equally  unable  to  return  to  that  from  which  I  have  just 
come  out  with  such  sufferings,  as  a  flying  bird  can  no 
longer  enter  into  the  shell  of  the  egg  from  which  it  came 
out. 

"He  who  begins  by  loving  Christianity  better  than 
truth  will  proceed  by  loving  his  own  sect  or  church 
better  than  Christianity,  and  end  in  loving  himself  better 
than  all,"  said  Coleridge. 

I  went  the  opposite  way.  I  began  by  loving  my  Ortho- 
dox faith  more  than  peace,  then  I  loved  Christianity  more 
than  my  church,  but  now  I  love  truth  better  than  any- 
thing in  the  world.     And  until  now  truth    for   me    has 


ANSWER  TO  THE  DECREE  OF  THE  SYNOD  237 

coincided  with  Christianity,  as  I  understand  it.     And  I 
profess  this  Christianity ;  and  in  the  measure  in  which 
I  profess  it,  I  live  calmly  and  joyously,  and  calmly  and 
joyously  approach  death. 
Aj)ril  4, 1901. 


THE   ONLY    MEANS 
1901 


THE  ONLY  MEANS 


Therefore  all  things  whatsoever  ye  would  that  men 
should  do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so  to  them  ;  for  this  is  the 
law  and  the  prophets  (Matt.  vii.  12). 


There  are  more  than  one  thousand  millions  of  working 
people  in  the  world.  All  the  bread,  all  the  commodities 
of  this  world,  everything  men  live  and  are  rich  by,  —  all 
that  is  made  by  the  working  people.  But  the  working 
people  live  in  constant  need,  ignorance,  slavery,  and  con- 
tempt of  all  those  whom  they  dress,  feed,  provide  for,  and 
serve. 

The  land  is  taken  away  from  them  and  considered  to 
be  the  property  of  those  who  do  not  work  upon  it ;  thus, 
to  gain  his  sustenance  from  it,  a  labourer  must  do  every- 
thing which  the  owners  of  the  land  demand  of  him.  But 
if  the  labourer  leaves  the  land  and  goes  to  work  in  fac- 
tories or  plants,  he  falls  into  the  slavery  of  the  rich,  for 
whom  he  must  all  his  life  work  ten,  twelve,  and  fourteen 
hours  a  day,  doing  somebody  else's  monotonous,  tedious, 
and  frequently  injurious  work.  If  he  manages  to  provide 
for  himself  on  the  land  or  in  doing  somebody  else's  work, 
so  as  to  be  able  to  feed  himself  without  suffering  want, 
he  will  not  be  left  alone,  but  they  will  demand  of  him 
taxes  and,  besides,  will  take  him  for  three,  four,  or  five 

241 


242  THE    ONLY    MEANS 

years  into  the  army,  or  will  compel  him  to  pay  special 
taxes  for  military  affairs.  If  he  wants  to  use  the  land, 
without  paying  for  it,  or  if  he  arranges  a  strike  and  wants 
to  keep  other  labourers  from  taking  his  place,  or  refuses 
to  pay  the  taxes,  they  send  the  army  out  against  him, 
wound  and  kill  him,  and  by  force  compel  him  to  work 
and  to  pay  taxes  as  before. 

Thus,  the  working  people  live  throughout  the  whole 
world,  not  like  men,  but  like  beasts  of  burden,  who  are 
compelled  all  their  lives  to  do,  not  what  they  need,  but 
what  their  oppressors  want,  and  for  which  their  oppressors 
give  them  precisely  as  much  food,  clothing,  and  rest  as 
they  need  in  order  to  be  able  to  work  without  cessation. 
But  that  small  part  of  men  which  lords  it  over  the  work- 
ing people  enjoys  everything  which  the  masses  produce, 
and  lives  in  idleness  and  mad  luxury,  uselessly  and  immor- 
ally wasting  the  labours  of  millions. 

Thus  lives  the  majority  of  men  in  the  whole  world, 
not  only  in  Russia,  but  also  in  France,  in  Germany,  in 
England,  in  China,  in  India,  in  Africa,  - —  everywhere. 
Who  is  to  blame  for  it  ?  And  how  can  it  be  mended  ? 
Some  say  that  those  are  to  blame  who,  without  working 
on  the  laud,  own  it,  and  that  the  land  ought  to  be  given 
back  to  the  working  people;  others  say  that  the  rich 
are  to  blame,  who  own  the  implements  of  labour,  that 
is,  the  factories  and  plants,  and  that  it  is  necessary 
that  the  factories  and  plants  should  become  the  property 
of  the  working  people ;  others  again  say  that  the  whole 
structure  of  life  is  to  blame,  and  that  it  is  necessary  to 
change  this  whole  structure. 

Is  this  true  ? 


Some  five  years  ago,  during  the  coronation  of  Nicholas 
II.,  the  masses  in  Moscow  were  promised  a  free  treat  of 
wine,  beer,  and  lunch.     The  masses  moved  toward  the 


THE    ONLY    MEANS  243 

place  where  the  food  was  distributed,  and  a  crush  ensued. 
Those  in  front  were  knocked  off  their  feet  by  those  'who 
were  behind  them,  and  these,  in  their  turn,  were  pushed 
by  those  still  farther  back,  and  all,  without  seeing  what 
was  going  on  in  front,  pushed  and  crushed  one  another. 
The  feeble  were  knocked  off  their  feet  by  those  who  were 
stronger,  and  then  the  stronger  people  themselves,  jammed 
in  and  suffocating,  fell  and  were  trampled  upon  by  those 
who  were  behind  them  and  could  not  arrest  the  motion. 
Thus  several  thousand  people,  old  and  young,  men  and 
women,  were  crushed  to  death. 

When  all  was  over,  people  began  to  reflect  as  to  who 
was  to  blame  for  it.  Some  said  that  the  police  were  to 
blame ;  others  said  that  the  managers  were  to  blame ; 
others  again  said  that  the  Tsar  was  to  blame,  for  having 
invented  this  stupid  kind  of  a  celebration.  All,  but  them- 
selves, were  blamed.  And  yet  it  would  seem  clear,  only 
those  were  to  blame  who,  to  be  the  first  to  get  a  handful 
of  cakes  and  a  beaker  of  wine,  rushed  forward,  without 
paying  any  attention  to  any  one  else,  and  pushed  and 
crushed  the  others. 

Does  not  the  same  happen  with  the  working  people  ? 
The  working  people  are  worn  out,  crushed,  turned  into 
slaves,  only  because  for  the  sake  of  insignificant  advan- 
tages they  themselves  ruin  their  lives  and  those  of  their 
brothers.  The  working  people  complain  of  the  land- 
owners, the  government,  the  manufacturers,  the  army. 

But  the  landowners  use  the  land,  the  government  col- 
lects the  taxes,  the  manufacturers  dispose  of  the  workmen, 
and  the  army  suppresses  the  strikes,  only  because  the 
working  people  not  only  aid  the  landowners,  the  govern- 
ment, the  manufacturers,  the  army,  but  themselves  do  all 
that  of  which  they  complain.  If  a  landowner  is  able  to 
use  thousands  of  desyatinas  of  land,  without  working  it 
himself,  he  does  so  only  because  the  working  people  for 
their  advantage  go  and  work  for  him,  and  serve  as  his 


244  THE    ONLY   MEANS 

janitors,  outriders,  aud  clerks.  In  the  same  way  the 
taxes  are  collected  by  the  government  from  the  working 
people,  only  because  the  working  people,  with  an  eye  to  a 
salary,  which  is  collected  from  them,  become  elders,  tax 
collectors,  pohcemen,  custom-house  servants,  border  guards, 
that  is,  aid  the  government  to  do  what  they  complain  of. 
Again  the  working  people  complain  that  the  manufac- 
turers lower  the  wages  and  make  the  men  work  longer 
and  ever  longer  hours ;  but  this,  too,  is  done  only  because 
the  working  people  knock  down  one  another's  wages  and, 
besides,  hire  out  to  the  manufacturers  as  receivers,  super- 
intendents, janitors,  and  chief  workmen,  aud  for  their 
masters'  advantage  search,  fine,  and  in  every  way  oppress 
their  brothers. 

Finally  the  working  people  complain  that  the  army  is 
sent  out  against  them,  when  they  want  to  take  possession 
of  the  land  which  they  consider  their  own,  or  do  not  pay 
the  taxes,  or  arrange  strikes. 

But  the  army  consists  of  soldiers,  and  the  soldiers  are 
the  same  working  people  who,  some  from  advantage, 
others  from  fear,  enter  military  service  and  make  under 
oath  a  promise  which  is  contrary  both  to  their  consciences 
and  to  the  divine  law  recognized  by  them,  that  they 
will  kill  all  those  whom  the  authorities  shall  order  them 
to  kill. 

Thus  all  the  calamities  of  the  working  people  are 
caused  by  themselves. 

They  need  only  stop  aiding  the  rich  and  the  govern- 
ment, aud  all  their  calamities  will  be  destroyed  of  them- 
selves. 

Why,  then,  do  they  continue  to  do  what  ruins  them  ? 


Two  thousand  years  ago  people  began  to  be  acquainted 
with  God's  law  that  it  is  necessary  to  do  unto  others  as 


THE    ONLY    MEANS  245 

one  would  have  others  treat  us,  or,  as  this  is  expressed 
by  the  Chinese  sage  Confucius,  "  Do  not  do  to  others 
what  you  do  not  want  that  others  should  do  to  you." 

This  law  is  simple  and  comprehensible  to  every  man, 
and  obviously  gives  the  greatest  good  accessible  to  men. 
And  so  it  would  seem  ihat,  as  soon  as  men  have  learned 
this  law,  they  ought  immediately  to  carry  it  out  to  the 
best  of  their  ability,  and  ought  to  use  all  their  forces  for 
the  purpose  of  teaching  this  law  to  the  younger  genera- 
tions and  familiarizing  them  with  its  execution. 

Thus,  it  would  seem,  all  people  ought  to  have  acted 
long  ago,  since  this  law  was  almost  simultaneously  ex- 
pressed by  Confucius,  by  the  Jewish  sage  Hillel,  and  by 
Christ. 

Especially  the  men  of  our  Christian  world,  it  would 
seem,  ought  to  have  acted  thus,  since  they  recognize  as 
the  chief  divine  revelation  that  Gospel  in  which  it  says 
directly  that  this  is  the  whole  law  and  the  prophets,  that 
is,  all  the  teaching  which  men  need. 

Meanwhile  almost  two  thousand  years  have  passed, 
and  men,  far  from  executing  this  law  themselves  and 
teaching  it  to  their  children,  for  the  most  part  do  not 
know  it  themselves,  or,  if  they  know  it,  consider  it  to  be 
unnecessary  or  impracticable. 

At  first  this  seems  strange,  but  when  one  considers 
how  people  hved  before  the  discovery  of  this  law,  and 
how  long  they  lived  thus,  and  how  incompatible  this  law 
is  with  the  life  of  humanity  as  at  present  constituted,  one 
begins  to  understand  why  this  happened  so. 

This  happened  so  because,  while  men  did  not  know 
the  law  that  for  the  good  of  all  men  each  ought  to  do 
unto  another  what  he  wished  that  others  should  do  to 
him,  each  man  tried  for  his  advantage  to  have  as  much 
power  over  other  men  as  possible.  Having  seized  such 
power,  each  man,  to  be  able  without  molestation  to  enjoy 
it,  was  compelled  in  his  turn  to  submit  to  those  who  were 


246  THE    ONLY   MEANS 

stronger  than  he,  and  to  aid  them.  These  stronger  ones, 
in  their  turn,  had  to  submit  to  those  who  were  still 
stronger,  and  to  aid  them. 

Thus,  in  those  societies  which  did  not  know  the  law 
that  we  ought  to  treat  others  as  we  wish  that  others 
should  treat  us,  a  small  number  of  men  always  ruled  all 
the  rest. 

And  so  it  is  comprehensible  that,  when  this  law  was 
revealed  to  men,  the  small  number  of  men  who  ruled  the 
rest  not  only  did  not  wish  to  accept  this  law,  but  could 
not  even  wish  that  people  over  whom  they  ruled  should 
learn  of  it  and  accept  it. 

A  small  number  of  ruling  people  have  always  known 
full  well  that  their  power  is  based  on  this,  that  those 
over  whom  they  rule  are  constantly  at  war  with  each 
other,  each  trying  to  make  the  others  submit  to  him. 
And  so  they  have  always  employed  all  means  at  their 
command  in  order  to  conceal  the  existence  of  this  law 
from  their  subjects. 

They  do  not  conceal  this  law  in  that  they  deny  it,  — 
which  is,  indeed,  impossible,  since  the  law  is  clear  and 
simple,  —  but  in  that  they  put  forth  hundreds  and  "thou- 
sands of  other  laws,  recognizing  them  as  more  important 
and  obligatory  than  the  law  about  doing  unto  another  as 
one  would  that  others  should  do  to  oneself. 

Some  of  these  people,  the  priests,  preach  hundreds  of 
church  dogmas,  rites,  sacrificial  ceremonies,  prayers,  which 
have  nothing  in  common  with  the  law  about  doing  unto 
others  as  one  would  that  others  should  do  to  oneself,  — 
giving  them  out  as  the  most  important  laws  of  God,  the 
non-performance  of  which  leads  to  eternal  perdition. 

Others,  the  rulers,  accepting  the  doctrine  invented  by 
the  priests  and  regarding  it  as  the  law,  on  its  basis  estab- 
lish governmental  decrees  which  are  directly  opposed  to 
the  law  of  mutuality,  and  under  the  threat  of  punish- 
ment demand  that  all  men  shall  perform  them. 


THE    ONLY    MEANS  247 

Others  again,  the  learned  and  the  rich,  who  do  not  rec- 
ognize God  or  any  obhgatory  law  of  His,  teach  that  there 
is  only  science  and  its  laws,  which  they,  the  learned, 
reveal  and  the  rich  know,  and  that,  for  all  people  to  fare 
well,  it  is  necessary  by  means  of  schools,  lectures,  thea- 
tres, concerts,  galleries,  assenibhes  to  acquire  the  sarue 
idle  hfe  which  the  learned  and  the  rich  live,  and  that 
then  all  that  evil  from  which  the  working  people  suffer 
will  come  to  an  end  of  its  own  accord. 

Neither  of  these  deny  the  law  itself,  but  side  by  side 
with  it  put  forth  such  a  mass  of  every  kind  of  theological, 
governmental,  and  scientific  laws,  that  amidst  them  that 
clear  and  all-accessible  law  of  God,  the  fulfilment  of 
which  indubitably  hberates  the  majority  of  men  from 
their  sufferings,  becomes  imperceptible  and  even  entirely 
disappears. 

It  is  this  that  has  produced  the  remarkable  fact  that 
the  working  people,  who  are  crushed  by  the  governments 
and  by  the  rich,  continue  generation  after  generation  to 
ruin  their  lives  and  the  lives  of  their  brothers ;  and,  hav- 
ing recourse,  for  the  sake  of  alleviating  their  condition,  to 
the  most  comphcated,  cunning,  aud  diflicult  of  means, 
such  as  prayers,  sacrificial  ceremonies,  the  humble  execu- 
tion of  governmental  demands,  unions,  savings-banks, 
assemblies,  strikes,  revolutions,  fail  to  have  recourse  to 
the  one  means,  the  fulfilment  of  the  law  of  God,  which 
certainly  frees  them  from  all  their  calamities. 


"  But  is  ii  possible  that  in  so  simple  and  short  an 
utterance,  as  the  one  that  men  nmst  act  toward  others  as 
they  wish  that  others  should  act  to  them,  is  contained 
the  whole  law  of  God  aud  all  the  guidance  of  human 
life  ? "  will  say  those  who  are  used  to  the  intricacy  and 


248  THE    ONLY    MEANS 

confusion  of  the  theological,  governmental,  and  scientific 
considerations. 

To  such  people  it  appears  that  the  law  of  God  and  the 
guidance  of  human  life  must  be  expressed  in  ditfuse,  com- 
pHcated  theories,  and  so  cannot  be  expressed  in  such  a 
short  and  simple  utterance. 

Indeed,  the  law  about  doing  unto  another  as  we  would 
that  others  should  do  to  us  is  very  brief  and  very  simple, 
but  it  is  this  very  brevity  and  simplicity  that  show  that 
this  law  is  true,  indubitable,  eternal,  and  good,  a  law  of 
God,  worked  out  by  a  millennial  life  of  the  whole  of  hu- 
manity, and  not  the  production  of  one  man  or  of  one 
circle  of  men,  which  calls  itself  the  church,  the  state,  or 
science. 

The  theological  reflections  about  the  fall  of  the  first 
man,  about  his  redemption,  about  the  second  advent,  or 
the  governmental  and  scientific  disquisitions  about  parlia- 
ments, supreme  power,  the  theory  of  punishment,  of  prop- 
erty, of  values,  the  classification  of  the  sciences,  natural 
selection,  and  so  forth,  may  be  very  astute  and  profound, 
but  are  always  accessible  to  but  a  small  number  of 
men.  But  the  law  about  treating  other  people  as  we 
would  that  others  should  treat  us  is  accessible  to  all 
men,  without  distinction  of  race,  faith,  culture,  or  even  age. 

Besides,  the  theological,  governmental,  scientific  reflec- 
tions, which  are  regarded  as  the  truth  in  one  place  and 
at  one  time,  are  regarded  as  a  lie  in  another  place  and  at 
another  time ;  but  the  law  about  treating  others  as  we 
would  that  others  should  .treat  us  is  regarded  as  true 
wherever  it  is  known,  and  never  ceases  to  be  the  truth  for 
those  who  have  once  learned  it. 

But  the  chief  difference  between  this  law  and  all  other 
laws,  and  its  chief  advantage,  is  this,  that  all  the  theologi- 
cal, governmental,  and  scientific  laws  not  only  do  not 
pacify  people  and  give  them  the  good,  but  frequently 
cause  the  greatest  enmity  and  sufferings. 


THE    ONLY    MEANS  249 

But  the  law  about  doing  unto  others  as  we  would  that 
others  should  do  to  us,  or  about  net  doing  unto  others  as 
we  would  that  others  should  not  do  to  us,  can  produce 
nothing  but  concord  and  the  good.  And  so  the  deduc- 
tions from  this  law  are  infinitely  beneficent  and  varied, 
defining  all  possible  relations  of  men  among  themselves, 
and  everywhere  putting  coucord  and  mutual  service  in 
the  place  of  discord  and  struggle.  If  only  men,  having 
freed  themselves  from  the  deceptions  which  conceal  this 
law  from  them,  would  recognize  its  obligatoriness  and 
would  work  out  all  its  applications  to  Kfe,  there  would 
appear  that  science,  now  absent,  but  common  to  all  men 
and  most  important  in  the  world,  wliich  would  show  how 
on  the  basis  of  this  law  are  to  be  settled  all  conflicts,  both 
of  separate  individuals  among  themselves  and  between 
separate  individuals  and  society.  If  this  now  lacking 
science  were  established  and  worked  out,  and  if  all  adults 
and  all  chiLlren  were  taught  it,  as  now  they  are  taught 
harmful  superstitions  and  frequently  useless  and  harmful 
sciences,  the  whole  life  of  men  would  be  changed,  and  so 
would  all  those  grievous  conditions  in  which  now  the  vast 
majority  of  them  live. 


In  the  Bible  tradition  it  says  that  God  gave  His  law  to 
men  long  before  the  law  about  not  doing  to  others  what 
we  do  not  svant  that  others  should  do  to  us. 

In  this  law  there  was  the  commandment,  "  Thou  shalt 
not  kill."  This  commandment  was  for  its  time  as  signifi- 
cant and  as  fruitful  as  .the  later  commandment  about 
doing  to  others  what  we  would  that  others  should  do  to 
us,  but  to  it  befell  the  same  as  did  to  this  later  com- 
mandment. It  was  not  directly  rejected  by  men,  but, 
like  the  later  commandment  of  mutuality,  it  was  lost 
amidst  other  rules  and  precepts,  which  were  recognized  ag 


250  THE    ONLY    MEANS 

of  equal  or  even  greater  importance  than  the  law  of  the 
inviolability  of  human  life.  If  there  were  but  this  one 
commaudment,  and  Moses,  according  to  tradition,  had 
brought  down  on  the  tables,  as  the  only  law  of  God,, 
nothing  but  the  few  words,  "  Thou  shalt  not  kill,"  men 
ought  to  have  recognized  the  obligatoriness  of  fulfilling 
this  law,  for  which  no  other  obligation  could  be  substi- 
tuted. And  if  men  had  recognized  this  law  as  the  chief 
and  only  law  of  God,  and  had  carried  it  out  strictly,  as 
they  now  carry  out  the  celebration  of  the  Sabbath,  the 
worship  of  the  images,  communion,  the  non-eating  of  pork, 
and  so  forth,  the  whole  of  the  human  life  would  have  been 
changed,  and  there  would  be  no  possibility  for  war,  nor 
slavery,  nor  the  rich  men's  seizure  of  the  laud  of  the  poor, 
nor  the  possession  of  the  products  of  labour  by  the  many, 
because  all  this  is  based  only  on  the  possibility  or  on  the 
threat  of  murder. 

Thus  it  would  be  if  the  law,  "Thou  shalt  not  kill," 
were  recognized  as  the  only  law  of  God.  But  when,  on  a 
par  with  this  law,  they  recognized  as  just  as  important 
the  commandments  about  the  Sabbath,  about  not  pro- 
nouncing God's  name,  and  other  commandments,  there 
naturally  arose,  besides,  new  decrees  of  the  priests,  which 
were  recognized  as  of  equal  importance,  and  the  one  great- 
est law  of  God,  "  Thou  shalt  not  kill,"  which  changed  the 
whole  life  of  men,  was  drowned  among  them,  and  not 
only  did  it  become  not  always  obligatory,  but  there  were 
also  found  cases  when  it  was  possible  to  act  quite  con- 
trary to  it,  so  that  tliis  law  has  not  even  to  this  day 
received  the  significance  which  is  proper  to  it. 

The  same  happened  with  the  law  about  acting  toward 
others  as  we  would  that  others  should  act  toward  us. 

Thus  the  chief  evil  from  which  men  suffer  has  for  a 
long  time  not  consisted  in  this,  that  they  do  not  know 
God's  true  law,  but  in  this,  that  men,  to  whom  the  knowl- 
edge and  the  execution  of  the  true  law  is  inconvenient, 


THE    ONLY    MEANS  251 

being  unable  to  destroy  or  overthrow  it,  invent  "  precept 
upon  precept  and  rule  upon  rule,"  as  Isaiah  says,  and-  give 
them  out  as  just  as  obligatory  as,  or  even  more  obliga- 
tory than  the  true  laws  of  God.  And  so,  the  only  thiug 
that  now  is  needed  for  freeing  men  from  their  suH'erings, 
is  this,  that  they  should  free  themselves  from  all  the  theo- 
logical, governmental,  and  scientific  retiectious,  which  are 
proclaimed  to  be  obligatory  laws  of  life,  and,  having  freed 
themselves,  should  naturally  recognize  as  more  binding 
upon  them  than  all  the  other  precepts  and  laws,  that  true, 
eternal  law,  which  is  already  known  to  them,  and  gives, 
not  only  to  a  few,  but  to  all  men,  the  greatest  possible 
good  in  social  life. 


"  But,"  will  say  some,  "  no  matter  how  correct  the  law 
about  doing  to  others  what  we  would  that  others  should 
do  to  us  may  be  in  itself,  it  cannot  be  applied  to  all  cases 
in  life.  Let  men  recognize  this  law  to  be  always  binding, 
without  any  exceptions  whatever,  and  they  will  be  com- 
pelled to  recognize  as  inadmissible  the  use  of  any  violence 
by  any  set  of  men  upon  any  other,  since  no  one  wants 
any  violence  to  be  used  against  him.  But  without  the 
use  of  violence  over  some  people  the  individual  cannot  be 
made  safe,  property  cannot  be  protected,  the  country 
cannot  be  defended,  the  existing  order  cannot  be  main- 
tained." 

God  says  to  men :  "  In  order  that  you  may  everywhere 
and  always  be  well  off,  fulfil  my  law  about  doing  to  others 
what  you  would  that  others  should  do  to  you." 

But  men  who  established  a  certain  order  in  the  year 
1901  in  England,  Germany,  France,  or  Paissia  say :  "  Sup- 
pose we  should  fare  worse,  if  we  fulfilled  the  law  given 
to  us  by  God  ?  " 

We  accept  a  law  which  is  made  by  an  assembly  of 


252  THE   ONLY   MEANS 

men,  no  matter  how  strange  it  may  be  and  by  what  bad 
men  it  may  be  made,  and  we  are  not  afraid  to  fulfil  it ; 
but  we  are  afraid  to  fulfil  the  law  which  is  not  only  in 
agreement  with  reason  and  conscience,  but  which  is  also 
directly  expressed  in  the  book  which  we  accept  as  God's 
revelation,  as  though  saying:  "Suppose  something  bad 
should  result  from  it,  or  that  it  should  lead  to  disorder." 

Is  it  not  obvious  that  the  men  who  speak  and  think  so 
are  not  speaking  of  order,  but  of  that  disorder  in  which 
they  live  and  which  is  advantageous  for  them  ? 

Order  is  in  their  opmion  a  state  in  which  they  are  able 
to  feast  on  other  people ;  but  disorder  is  that  state  when 
the  people  devoured  wish  that  men  should  stop  devouring 
them. 

Such  considerations  show  only  that  the  men  who  belong 
to  the  small  number  of  the  ruhng  class  feel,  for  the  most 
part  unconsciously,  that  the  recognition  of  the  law  about 
doing  unto  others  as  we  would  that  others  should  do  unto 
us,  and  its  fulfilment  by  men,  not  only  destroys  their 
advantageous  social  position,  but  also  reveals  all  their 
immorality  and  cruelty.  These  people  cannot  reflect 
differently. 

But  it  is  time  for  the  working  people,  who  are  driven 
off  the  land,  crushed  under  taxes,  driven  to  convict  labour 
in  factories,  changed  into  slave  soldiers,  who  torture  them- 
selves and  their  brothers,  to  understand  that  only  the 
behef  in  the  law  of  God  and  its  fulfilment  will  free  them 
from  their  sufferings. 

The  non-fulfilment  of  this  law  and  the  ever  increasing 
calamities  resulting  from  it  urge  them  to  it.  It  is  time 
for  the  labouring  people  to  understand  that  their  salvation 
lies  only  in  this,  that  they  need  but  begin  to  fulfil  the  law 
of  mutuality,  in  order  that  their  situation  should  at  once 
be  improved,  —  and  it  will  be  improved  in  proportion  as 
the  number  of  men  who  act  toward  others  as  they  would 
that  others  should  act  toward  them  shall  be  increased. 


THE    ONLY    MEANS  253 

And  this  is  not  mere  words,  not  abstract  reflections, 
like  the  rehgious,  governmental,  socialistic,  scientific  theo- 
ries, but  an  actual  means  of  Hberatiou. 

The  theological,  governmental,  and  scientific  reflections 
and  promises  afford  the  good  to  the  working  people,  some 
in  the  world  to  come,  and  others  in  this  world,  but  at 
such  a  distant  future,  that  the  bones  of  those  who  live 
and  sufier  now  will  long  ago  have  rotted ;  but  the  fulfil- 
ment of  the  law  about  doing  unto  others  what  we  would 
that  others  should  do  unto  us  immediately  and  incontest- 
ably  improves  the  condition  of  the  working  people. 

Even  if  all  the  working  people  did  not  see  clearly  that 
by  working  on  the  lands  of  the  capitalists  and  in  their 
factories  they  give  the  capitahsts  the  chance  of  using  the 
products  of  the  labours  of  their  brothers,  and  thus  violate 
the  law  of  mutuality,  or,  if  they  saw  it  and  through  want 
did  not  have  the  strength  to  decline  such  work,  the  re- 
fraining from  such  work,  even  by  a  few,  would  embarrass 
the  capitahsts  and  would  at  once  improve  the  general  con- 
dition of  the  working  people.  And  the  refraining  from 
a  direct  participation  in  the  activity  of  the  capitahsts  and 
the  government  in  the  capacity  of  overseers,  clerks,  col- 
lectors of  taxes,  custom-house  servants,  and  so  forth,  who 
obviously  are  opposed  to  the  law  of  mutuality,  would  still 
more  improve  the  condition  of  the  workmg  people,  even 
if  not  all  should  be  able  to  abstain  from  such  an  activity. 
And  the  refusal  of  the  working  people  to  take  part  in  the 
army,  which  has  murder  for  its  aim,  —  an  act  most  op- 
posed to  the  law  of  mutuality,  —  and  which  of  late  has 
been  more  and  more  frequently  directed  against  the  labour- 
ers, would  absolutely  change  the  position  of  the  working 
people  for  the  better. 


God's  law  is   not  God's  law  because,  as  the   priests 
always  assert  in  regard  to  their  laws,  it  was  in  a  miracu- 


254  THE    ONLY    MEANS 

lous  way  enunciated  by  God  himself,  but  because  it  fault- 
lessly and  obviously  points  out  to  men  that  path  which, 
if  they  travel  upon  it,  will  certainly  free  them  from  their 
sufferings  and  will  give  them  the  greatest  internal  —  spir- 
itual —  and  external  —  physical  —  good,  and  this  will  be 
attained  not  by  a  chosen  few,  but  by  all  men  without  any 
exception. 

Such  is  the  law  of  God  about  treating  others  as  we 
would  that  others  should  treat  us.  It  shows  to  people 
that,  fuliiUing  it,  they  will  certainly  receive  the  inner, 
spiritual  good  of  the  consciousness  of  agreement  with  the 
will  of  God  and  of  the  increase  of  love  in  themselves  and 
in  others,  and  at  the  same  time  in  social  life  the  greatest 
certain  good  accessible  to  them ;  and  that,  in  departing 
from  it,  they  certainly  make  their  condition  worse. 

Indeed,  it  is  obvious  to  every  man  who  does  not  take 
part  in  the  struggle  of  men  among  themselves,  but  ob- 
serves life  from  without,  that  the  people  who  struggle 
among  themselves  act  precisely  like  gamesters  who  give 
up  their  certain,  though  insignificant,  property  for  the  very 
doubtful  possibility  of  its  increase. 

Whether  a  working  man  who  underbids  his  companions 
or  who  goes  to  work  for  the  rich  or  enters  military  service 
will  improve  his  condition,  is  as  doubtful  as  this,  whether 
the  gamester  will  win  in  putting  up  his  stake. 

There  can  be  thousands  of  casualties  by  which  his  con- 
dition will  remain  such  as  it  is,  or  even  get  worse  than  it 
is.  But  it  is  unquestionable  that  his  agreement  to  work 
for  smaller  wages  or  his  readiness  to  serve  the  capitalists 
and  the  government  will  make  the  condition  of  all  the 
working  people,  and  his  with  theirs,  slightly  worse,  —  and 
this  is  as  unquestionable  as  that  the  gamester  will  certainly 
lose  the  stake  wliich  he  risks. 

For  a  man  who  does  not  take  part  in  the  struggle,  but 
observes  life,  it  is  obvious  that  just  as  in  games  of  hazard, 
in  lotteries,  in  the  exchange,  it  is  only  the  keepers  of  the 


THE    ONLY    MEANS  255 

gambling-houses,  of  the  lotteries,  and  of  the  brokers'  offices 
who  get  rich,  while  all  players  get  ruined,  so  also  in  life 
it  is  the  governments,  the  rich,  in  general  the  oppressors, 
who  become  enriched ;  but  all  the  working  people  who, 
in  the  hope  of  improving  their  situation,  depart  from  the 
law  of  mutuality,  only  make  the  situation  of  all  working 
people  worse,  and  consequently  their  own  situation  together 
with  the  rest. 

God's  law  is  God's  law  even  because  it  defines  man's 
position  in  the  world,  showing  him  that  better  thing 
which  he  can  do  while  in  this  position,  both  for  his 
spiritual  and  for  his  carnal  life. 

"  Therefore  take  no  thought,"  it  says  in  the  Gospel  in 
explanation  of  this  law,  "  saying,  What  shall  we  eat  ?  or, 
What  shall  we  drink  ?  or.  Wherewithal  shall  we  be 
clothed  ?  For  your  heavenly  Father  knoweth  that  ye  have 
need  of  all  these  things.  But  seek  ye  first  the  kingdom 
of  God,  and  His  righteousness ;  and  all  these  things  shall 
be  added  unto  you."  And  these  are  not  mere  words,  but 
the  explanation  of  man's  true  position  in  the  world. 

If  a  man  only  does  what  God  wants  of  him,  and  fulfils 
His  law,  God,  too,  will  do  for  him  everything  which  he 
needs.  Thus  the  law  about  doing  unto  others  as  we 
would  that  others  should  do  unto  us  refers  to  God 
as  well.  For  Him  to  do  to  us  what  we  would  that  He 
should  do  to  us,  we  must  do  for  Him  what  He  wants  us 
to  do.  What  He  wants  us  to  do  is,  that  we  should  treat 
others  as  we  would  that  others  should  treat  us. 

The  only  difference  is  this,  that  what  He  wants  of  us 
He  does  not  need  for  Himself,  but  for  ourselves,  giving 
us  the  highest  accessible  good. 

8 

The  working  people  must  purify  themselves,  in  order 
that  the  governments  and  the  rich  should  stop  devouring 
them. 


256  THE    ONLY    MEANS 

The  itch  develops  only  on  a  dirty  body,  and  feeds  on 
that  body  only  so  long  as  it  is  dirty.  And  so,  for  the 
working  people  to  free  themselves  from  their  wretched- 
ness, there  is  but  one  means,  —  to  purify  themselves. 
But  to  purify  themselves,  they  must  free  themselves  from 
the  theological,  governmental,  and  scientific  superstitions, 
and  believe  in  God  and  His  law. 

In  this  does  the  one  means  of  Saivadon  lie. 

Take  an  educated  and  a  pirivnle,  unlettered  working 
man.  Both  are  full  of  indignation  against  the  existing 
order  of  things.  The  educated  working  man  does  not 
believe  in  God  or  in  His  law,  but  knows  Marx  and 
Lassale,  and  watches  the  activity  of  a  Bebel  or  a  Jaurfes 
in  the  parliaments,  and  dek"^  ers  tine  speeches  about  the 
injustice  of  the  seizure  of  I;tad,  the  implements  of  labour, 
against  the  hereditary  transmission  of  property,  and  so 
forth. 

The  iinleicered  working  man,  though  he  does  not  know 
any  theories,  and  believes  in  the  Trinity,  the  redemption, 
and  so  forth,  is  ako  provoked  against  the  landowners  and 
capitalists,  and  considers  the  whole  existing  order  to  be 
wrong.  But  give  a  working  man,  either  an  educat-ed  or 
an  uneducated  one,  the  chance  of  improving  his  situa- 
tion by  producing  some  articles  cheaper  than  others, 
though  this  may  ruin  tens,  hundreds,  thousands  of  his 
brothers,  or  the  chance  of  taking  with  a  rich  man  a  place 
which  gives  him  a  big  salary,  or  of  buying  land  and  him- 
self starting  an  establ  hment  with  hired  labour,  and  nine 
hundred  and  ninety-nine  out  of  every  thou.sand  will  do  so 
without  hesitation,  and  will  often  defend  their  agrarian 
rights  or  the  rights  of  the  employers  with  even  more  zeal 
than  landowners  and  capitalists  who  are  to  the  manor 
born. 

But  that  their  participation  in  murder,  that  is,  in  mili- 
tary service  or  in  the  taxes  which  are  intended  for  the 
support  of  the  army,  is  not  only  a  morally  bad  act,  but 


THE    ONLY    MEANS  257 

also  very  pernicious  for  their  brothers  and  for  them- 
selves, —  the  same  which  forms  the  foundation  of  their 
slavery,  —  does  not  enter  the  heads  of  any  of  them,  and 
all  either  gladly  pay  their  taxes  for  the  army,  or  them- 
selves enter  the  army,  considering  such  an  act  to  be  quite 
natural. 

Could  such  people  have  led  to  the  formation  of  a  differ- 
ent society  from  that  which  now  exists  ? 

The  working  people  find  the  cause  of  their  condition 
in  the  greed  and  cruelty  of  the  landowners,  capitalists, 
violators ;  but  all,  or  nearly  all,  working  people,  without 
faith  in  God  and  His  law,  are  just  such,  though  much 
smaller,  or  unsuccessful,  landowners,  capitalists,  and 
violators. 

A  village  lad,  being  in  want  of  earnings,  comes  to  the 
city,  to  a  peasant  of  his  own  village,  who  is  acting  as 
coachman  at  the  house  of  a  rich  merchant,  and  asks  the 
coachman  to  find  a  place  for  him  at  lower  wages  than 
what  is  customary.  The  village  lad  is  prepared  to  take 
the  place ;  upon  arriving  the  next  morning,  he  acciden- 
tally hears  in  the  servants'  room  the  complaints  of  the 
old  man  who  has  lost  his  place,  and  who  does  not  know 
what  to  do  next.  The  lad  is  sorry  for  the  old  man,  and  he 
refuses  the  place,  because  he  does  not  want  to  do  to 
another  man  what  he  does  not  want  that  others  should 
do  to  him.  Or  a  peasant,  with  a  large  family,  accepts 
the  well-paid  place  of  steward  on  the  estate  of  a  rich  and 
strict  landowner.  The  new  steward  feels  that  his  family 
is  provided  for,  and  is  glad  to  take  the  place,  but,  upon 
beginning  his  duties,  he  has  to  mulct  the  peasants  for 
permitting  their  horses  to  graze  in  their  master's  fields,  to 
catch  the  women  who  are  collecting  fagots  in  their  pro- 
prietor's forest,  to  lower  the  wages  of  the  labourers  and  to 
make  them  exert  their  last  bit  of  strength  in  work.  And 
the  steward  who  has  taken  this  new  place  feels  that  his 
conscience  does  not  permit  him   to  busy  himself  with 


258  THE    ONLY    MEANS 

these  matters,  and  he  gives  up  his  place,  and,  in  spite  of 
the  reproaches  and  complaints  of  his  family,  is  left  with- 
out a  place,  and  does  something  else,  which  gives  him 
much  less  of  an  income.  Or  again,  a  soldier  is  brought 
with  a  company  against  some  rioting  labourers  and  is 
commanded  to  shoot  at  them ;  he  refuses  to  obey,  and  for 
this  suffers  cruel  torments.  All  these  men  act  so  because 
the  evil  which  they  do  to  others  is  visible  to  them,  and 
their  heart  tells  them  outright  that  what  they  are  doing 
is  contrary  to  the  law  of  God  about  not  doing  to  another 
what  we  would  not  that  others  should  do  to  us.  But 
when  the  working  man  knocks  down  the  price  of  labour 
and  does  not  see  those  to  whom  he  does  wrong,  the  evil 
which  he  causes  his  brothers  through  it  is  not  diminished 
thereby.  And  when  a  working  man  goes  over  to  the  side 
of  the  masters,  and  does  not  see  or  feel  the  harm  which 
he  does  his  own,  the  harm  none  the  less  remains. 

The  same  is  true  of  a  man  who  enters  military  service 
and  who  prepares  himself,  if  necessary,  to  kill  his  brothers. 
If,  upon  entering  military  service,  he  does  not  yet  see 
whom  and  how  he  is  going  to  kill,  when  he  learns  to 
shoot  and  to  stab,  he  must  understand  that  he  will  have  to 
kill  people  some  day.  And  so,  for  the  working  people 
to  free  themselves  from  their  oppression  and  slavery,  they 
must  educate  in  themselves  a  religious  feeling,  which 
forbids  everything  that  makes  the  general  position  of 
their  brothers  worse,  even  though  this  deterioration  may 
not  be  perceptible  to  them.  They  must  religiously  abstain, 
as  now  people  abstain  from  eating  pork  or  any  other  meat 
on  fast-days,  from  working  on  Sundays,  and  so  forth,  in 
the  first  place,  from  working  for  capitalists,  if  they  can 
get  along  at  all  without  doing  so ;  in  the  second  place, 
from  offering  to  do  w^ork  at  le.'-s  than  the  established 
wage ;  thirdly,  from  improving  their  condition  by  passing 
over  to  the  side  of  the  capitalists,  by  serving  them  ;  and, 
fourthly,   above   all  else,  from   participation  in    govern- 


THE    ONLY    MEANS  259 

mental  violence,  —  be  it  police,  custom-house,  or  general 
military  service. 

Only  by  such  a  religious  relation  to  the  form  of  their 
activity  can  the  working  people  be  freed  from  their  en- 
slavement. 

If  a  labourer  is  prepared  from  advantage  or  fear  to 
agree  to  join  the  organized  soldier  murderers,  without  feel- 
ing the  shghtest  compunction,  if,  for  the  increase  of  his 
well-being,  he  is  prepared  calmly  to  deprive  his  needy 
brother  of  his  earnings,  or  for  the  sake  of  a  salary  to  go 
over  to  the  side  of  the  oppressors,  by  helping  them  in  their 
activity,  —  he  has  no  cause  for  complaint. 

No  matter  what  his  condition  may  be,  he  creates  it 
himself  and  cannot  himself  be  anything  but  an  oppressed 
man  or  an  oppressor. 

Nor  can  it  be  different.  So  long  as  a  man  does  not 
believe  in  God  and  His  law,  he  cannot  help  but  desire  to 
get  for  himself  in  his  short  life  as  much  good  as  possible, 
independently  of  what  consequences  this  may  have  for 
others.  And  as  soon  as  all  men  wish  for  themselves  as 
much  good  as  possible,  independently  of  what  this  will 
do  to  others,  no  matter  what  order  may  be  introduced, 
all  men  will  form  themselves  into  a  cone,  at  the  apex 
of  which  will  be  the  rulers,  and  at  the  base  the  op- 
pressed. 


In  the  Gospel  it  says  that  Christ  pitied  men  for  being 
exhausted  and  scattered,  hke  sheep  without  a  shepherd. 

What  would  He  feel  and  say  now,  if  He  saw  men 
not  only  exhausted  and  scattered,  hke  sheep  without  a 
shepherd,  but  thousands  of  millions  of  men  in  the  whole 
world,  generation  after  generation,  ruining  themselves  in 
beastly  labour,  in  stupefaction,  ignorance,  vices,  killing 
and  tormenting  one  another,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the 


260  THE   ONLY   MEANS 

means  of  freeing  oneself  from  all  these  calamities  was 
given  two  thousand  years  ago  ? 

The  key  which  unlocks  the  lock  of  the  chain  that 
fetters  the  working  masses  is  placed  near  them,  and  they 
needs  only  take  the  key,  open  the  chain,  and  be  free. 
But  the  labouring  people  have  not  been  doing  this ;  they 
either  undertake  nothing  and  surrender  themselves  to 
gloom,  or  wound  their  shoulders  in  tugging  at  the  chain, 
in  the  hope  of  breaking  the  unbreakable  chain,  or,  what 
is  still  worse,  like  a  chained  animal  which  rushes  against 
him  who  wants  to  free  it,  attack  those  who  show  them 
the  key  which  unlocks  the  lock  of  their  chain. 

This  key  is  the  belief  in  God  and  His  law. 

Only  when  men  will  reject  those  superstitions  in  which 
they  are  carefully  brought  up,  will  believe  that  the  law 
about  doing  unto  others  as  we  would  that  others  should 
do  unto  us  is  for  our  time  the  chief  law  of  God,  will 
believe  in  this,  as  they  now  believe  in  the  celebration  of 
the  Sabbath,  the  observance  of  fasts,  the  necessity  of  divine 
services  and  communion,  the  fivefold  prayers,  or  the  ful- 
filment of  the  oath,  and  so  forth,  and,  beheving  in  this, 
will  fulfil  this  law  before  any  other  laws  and  precepts,  — 
will  the  slavery  and  the  wretched  condition  of  the  work- 
ing people  be  destroyed. 

And  so  the  working  people  themselves  must  first  of  all, 
without  respect  for  the  old  habits  and  traditions  and  with- 
out fearing  the  external  persecutions  from  church  and 
state  and  the  internal  struggle  with  their  relatives,  with 
boldness  and  determination  free  themselves  from  the  false 
faith  in  which  they  are  educated,  more  and  more  eluci- 
date to  themselves  and  to  others,  especially  to  the  younger 
generations  and  to  children,  the  essence  of  the  faith  in 
God  and  of  the  law  of  mutuahty  which  results  from  it, 
and  follow  it  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  though  this  fol- 
lowing may  present  a  temporary  discomfiture. 

Thus  must  the  working  people  themselves  act. 


THE    ONLY   MEANS  261 

But  the  men  of  the  ruling  minority,  who,  making  use 
of  the  labours  of  the  working  people,  have  acquired  all 
the  advantages  of  culture  and  so  are  able  clearly  to  see 
the  deceptions  in  which  they  keep  the  working  people, 
if  they  truly  wish  to  serve  the  working  people,  must 
first  of  all  with  their  example  and  by  their  words  try  to 
free  the  working  people  from  those  religious  and  govern- 
mental deceptions  in  which  they  are  entrapped,  and  must 
not  do  what  they  are  doing  now,  when,  by  leaving  in 
force,  supporting,  and  even  strengthening  with  their  ex- 
ample these  deceptions,  especially  the  chief,  the  religious 
deceptions,  they  offer  ineffective  and  even  injurious  medi- 
cines, which  not  only  do  not  free  the  working  people  from 
their  wretchedness,  but  even  make  their  condition  worse 
and  worse. 

No  one  can  tell,  whether  this  will  ever  or  anywhere  be 
realized.  One  thing  is  certain,  and  that  is,  that  this 
means  can  free  a  vast  number  of  men  —  all  working 
people  —  from  their  humiliations  and  sufferings. 

There  is  and  there  can  be  no  other  means. 

Ydsiiaya  Polydna,  July  12,  1901. 


^^THE    SOLDIERS'    MEMENTO" 

1901 


"THE   SOLDIERS'    MEMENTO" 


Fear  them  not  therefore  :  for  there  is  nothing  covered, 
that  shall  not  be  revealed ;  and  hid,  that  shall  not  be 
known.  What  I  tell  you  in  darkness,  that  speak  ye  in 
light :  and  what  ye  hear  in  the  ear,  that  preach  ye  upon 
the  house-tops.  And  fear  not  them  which  kill  the  body, 
but  are  not  able  to  kill  the  soul :  but  rather  fear  him  which 
is  able  to  destroy  both  soul  and  body  in  hell  {Matt.  x.  26-28). 

Then  Peter  and  the  other  apostles  answered  and  said, 
We  ought  to  obey  God  rather  than  men  (Acts  v.  29). 

You  are  a  soldier,  you  have  been  taught  to  shoot,  stab, 
march,  go  through  gymnastic  exercises,  read  books,  and 
have  been  taken  out  to  military  exercises  and  parades ; 
maybe  you  went  through  a  war,  figliting  the  Turks  or 
the  Chinese,  doing  everything  you  were  commanded  to  do. 
It  did  not  even  occur  to  you  to  ask  yourself  whether  what 
you  were  doing  was  good  or  bad. 

But  here  the  command  is  given  to  your  company  or 
squadron  to  start  out,  taking  along  ball-cartridges.  You 
travel  or  march,  without  asking  whither  you  are  taken. 

You  are  led  up  to  a  village  or  factory,  and  you  see  from 
afar  that  in  the  open  square  there  is  a  crowd  of  villagers 
or  factory  hands,  men,  women  with  their  children,  old 
men  and  women.  The  governor  and  the  prosecutor,  ac- 
companied by  policemen,  walk  up  to  the  crowd  and  talk 
to  the  people  about  something.  The  crowd  is  at  first 
silent,  then  the  people  begin  to  cry  out  louder  and  louder, 
and  the  officials  go  away  from  the  crowd.     You  see  that 

265 


266  "the  soldiers'  memento" 

these  are  peasants  or  factory  hands  who  are  riotous,  and 
that  you  are  brought  there  to  pacify  them.  The  officials 
several  times  walk  up  to  the  people  and  walk  away  again, 
but  the  shouts  grow  louder  and  louder,  and  the  officials 
talk  among  themselves,  and  you  are  commanded  to  load 
your  gun  with  a  ball-cartridge.  You  see  before  yourself 
people,  the  same  from  among  whom  you  were  taken :  men 
in  sleeveless  coats,  short  fur  coats,  bast  shoes,  and  women 
in  kerchiefs  and  waists,  just  such  women  as  your  wife  or 
mother. 

The  first  shot  you  are  ordered  to  fire  above  the  heads 
of  the  crowd ;  but  the  people  do  not  disperse,  and  shout 
louder  than  before.  Then  you  are  commanded  to  shoot 
right,  not  over  their  heads,  but  straight  into  the  crowd. 

You  have  been  impressed  with  the  idea  that  you  are 
not  responsible  for  what  will  happen  from  your  shot ;  but 
you  know  that  the  man  who,  weltering  in  blood,  fell 
down  from  your  shot  was  killed  by  you  and  by  no  one 
else,  and  you  know  that  you  might  not  have  shot,  and 
then  the  man  would  not  have  been  killed. 

What  are  you  to  do  ? 

It  is  not  enough  for  you  to  drop  your  gun  and  refuse 
just  now  to  shoot  at  your  brothers.  To-morrow  the  same 
may  be  repeated,  and  so,  whether  you  wish  it  or  not,  you 
must  bethink  yourself  and  ask  yourself  what  this  calling 
of  a  soldier  is,  which  has  brought  you  to  such  a  state 
that  you  are  compelled  to  shoot  at  your  own  unarmed 
brothers. 

In  the  Gospel  it  says  that  we  must  not  only  not  kill 
our  brothers,  but  must  also  not  do  what  leads  to  murder, 
that  we  must  not  be  angry  with  our  brother,  and  that  we 
must  not  hate  our  enemies,  but  love  them. 

In  the  law  of  Moses  it  says  distinctly,  "  Thou  shalt  not 
kiU,"  without  any  explanations  as  to  who  may  be  killed 
and  who  not.  But  in  the  rules  which  you  have  been 
taught  it  says  that  a  soldier  must  fulfil  any  command  of 


"  THE    soldiers'    MEMENTO  "  267 

his  superior,  no  matter  what  it  may  be,  except  a  command 
against  the  Tsar,  and  in  the  explanation  of  the  sixth  com- 
mandment it  says  that,  though  the  commandment  forbids 
killing,  he  who  kills  in  war  does  not  sin  against  this 
commandment.^  But  in  the  Soldiers'  Memento,  which 
hangs  in  every  barrack  and  which  you  have  read  and 
lieard  many  a  time,  it  says  that  a  soldier  must  kill  men  : 
"  Three  fly  at  you,  —  the  first  you  stab,  the  second  you 
shoot,  the  third  you  settle  with  the  bayonet  ...  if  the 
bayonet  is  broken,  beat  with  the  butt ;  if  the  butt  won't 
do,  belabour  him  with  your  fists ;  if  your  fists  give  out, 
hang  to  him  with  your  teeth."  ^ 

You  are  told  that  you  must  kill,  because  you  have 
taken  the  oath,  and  that  the  authorities,  and  not  you, 
will  be  responsible  for  your  acts. 

But  before  you  swore,  that  is,  promised  people  to  do 
their  .will,  you  were  even  without  an  oath  obliged  in 
everything  to  do  the  will  of  God,  of  Him  who  gave  you 
life,  —  but  God  has  commanded  us  not  to  kill. 

Thus  you  could  not  swear  that  you  would  do  every- 
thing demanded  of  you  by  men.  For  this  reason  it  says 
directly  in  the  Gospel  (Matt.  v.  34),  "  Swear  not  at  all " 
.  .  ,  "But  let  your  communication  be.  Yea,  yea;  Nay, 
nay :  for  wdiatsoever  is  more  than  these  cometh  of  evil." 
And  the  same  is  said  in  James  v.  12:  "But  above  all 
things,  my  brethren,  swear  not,  neither  by  heaven,  neither 
by  earth,"  etc.  Thus  the  oath  itself  is  a  sin.  And  what 
they  say  to  the  effect  that  not  you,  but  the  authorities, 


1  In  the  Rules  it  says  :  "By  the  sixth  commandment  God  forbids 
us  to  take  the  lives  of  men  by  violence  or  cunning,  or  in  any  way  to 
violate  the  security  and  peace  of  our  neighbour,  and  so  by  this  com- 
mandment quarrels,  anger,  hatred,  envy,  and  cruelty  are  also  forbid- 
den. But  he  who  kills  the  enemy  in  war  does  not  sin  against  this 
commandment,  because  by  war  he  defends  our  faith,  our  Tsar,  and 
our  country."  —  Author''a  Note. 

^Soldiers'  Memento,  collected  by  Dragomfrov,  19th  ed.,  St.  Peters- 
burg, 1H99. 


268  "the  soldiers'  memento 


)> 


will  be  responsible  for  your  acts  is  an  untruth.  Can  your 
conscience  be,  not  in  yourself,  but  in  the  corporal,  ser- 
geant, captain,  colonel,  or  anybody  else?  Nobody  can 
decide  for  you  what  you  can  and  must  do,  and  what  you 
cannot  and  must  not  do.  A  man  is  always  responsible 
for  what  he  does.  Is  not  the  sin  of  adultery  many  times 
lighter  than  the  sin  of  murder,  and  can  a  man  say  to 
another,  "  Commit  adultery,  I  take  your  sin  upon  myself, 
because  I  am  your  superior  "  ? 

Adam,  so  the  Bible  tells,  sinned  against  God  and  then 
said  that  his  wife  had  told  him  to  eat  the  apple,  that  the 
devil  had  tempted  her.  God  justified  neither  Adam  nor 
Eve,  and  told  them  that  Adam  would  be  punished  for 
having  listened  to  the  voice  of  his  wife,  and  that  his 
wife  would  be  likewise  punished  for  having  obeyed 
the  serpent.  He  did  not  free  them,  but  punished  them. 
Will  not  God  say  the  same  to  you,  when  you  kill  a 
man  and  say  that  your  captain  commanded  you  to  do 

so  ? 

The  deception  is  seen  even  in  this,  that  in  the  rule 
which  says  that  a  soldier  must  fulfil  all  the  command- 
ments of  his  superiors,  the  words  are  added :  "  Except 
such  as  are  to  the  harm  of  the  Tsar." 

If  a  soldier,  before  fulfilling  the  commands  of  his  supe- 
rior, must  decide  whether  they  are  not  against  the  Tsar, 
how  much  more  must  he,  before  fulfilling  the  command 
of  his  superior,  consider  whether  what  his  officer  demands 
of  him  is  not  against  the  highest  Tsar,  God !  But  there 
is  no  act  which  is  more  opposed  to  God's  will  than  the 
killing  of  men.  And  so  it  is  not  right  to  obey  men,  if 
they  command  you  to  kill  men.  But  if  you  obey  and 
kill,  you  do  so  only  for  your  advantage,  in  order  not  to  be 
punished.  Thus,  by  killing  by  the  command  of  your 
superiors,  you  are  as  much  a  murderer  as  that  robber  who 
kills  a  merchant,  in  order  to  rob  him.  The  robber  is 
tempted  by  the   money,  and   you  are  tempted   by   the 


"  THE    soldiers'    MEMENTO  '*  269 

desire  not  to  be  punished  and  to  receive  a  reward.     A 
man  always  himself  answers  for  his  acts  before  God. 

No  power  can,  as  the  authorities  want  it  to,  make  of 
you,  of  a  living  man,  a  dead  thing  which  may  be  handled 
as  desired.  Christ  taught  men  that  they  are  all  sous  of 
God,  and  so  a  Christian  cannot  give  his  conscience  into 
the  power  of  another  man,  no  matter  by  what  title  he 
may  be  called,  —  king.  Tsar,  or  emperor.  The  fact  that 
the  men  who  have  taken  the  command  over  you  demand 
of  you  that  you  shall  kill  your  brothers,  proves  only  that 
these  men  are  cheats  and  that,  therefore,  you  must  not 
obey  them.  Shameful  is  the  position  of  the  harlot  who  is 
always  prepared  to  have  her  body  defiled  by  him  who 
is  pointed  out  to  her  by  her  master;  but  more  shameful  is 
the  position  of  the  soldier  who  is  always  prepared  to  com- 
mit the  greatest  crime,  —  to  murder  any  man  who  is 
pointed  out  to  him  by  his  superior. 

And  so,  if  you  really  want  to  act  in  godly  fashion,  you 
must  do  this :  you  must  give  up  the  disgraceful  and  god- 
less calling  of  a  soldier  and  be  prepared  to  bear  aU  the 
sufferings  which  they  will  impose  upon  you  for  this. 

Thus  the  real  memento  of  a  Christian  soldier  is  not  the 
oue  in  which  it  says  that  "  God  is  the  soldiers'  general," 
and  other  blasphemies,  and  that  "  a  soldier  must,  while 
obeying  his  superiors  in  everything,  be  prepared  to  kill 
strangers  or  friends,  even  his  unarmed  brothers ; "  he 
must  remember  the  words  of  Scripture  that  God  nuist  be 
obeyed  more  than  men,  and  he  must  not  fear  those  who 
can  kill  the  body,  but  cannot  kill  the  soul.^ 

In  this  consists  the  true  soldiers'  memento,  which  does 
not  deceive. 

Gdspra,  December  7,  1901. 

^  In  Drai^omfrov's  Memento  three  passages  are  adduced  from  the 
Gospel, — -John  xv.,  Matt.  x.  22,  and  30.  From  John,  verse  13  is 
quoted  :  "  Greater  love  hath  no  man  tlian  this,  that  a  man  lay  down 
his  life  for  his  friends,"  apparently  in  this  sense,  that  the  soldiers 


270  "  THE  soldiers'  memento  " 

must  in  a  battle  fight  most  desperately,  in  order  to  defend  their  com- 
rades. 

But  these  words  in  no  way  refer  to  military  matters,  but  have  the 
very  opposite  meaning.  In  verses  10-13  it  says:  "If  ye  keep  my 
commandments,  ye  shall  abide  in  my  love  ;  even  as  I  have  kept 
my  Father's  commandments,  and  abide  in  his  love.  These  things 
have  I  spoken  unto  you,  that  my  joy  might  remain  in  you,  and  that 
your  joy  might  be  full.  This  is  my  commandment,  That  ye  love  one 
another,  as  I  have  loved  you.  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this, 
that  a  man  lay  down  his  life  for  his  friends." 

Thus  the  words,  "  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man 
lay  down  his  life  for  his  friends,"  do  not  at  all  mean  that  a  soldier 
must  defend  his  comrades,  but  that  a  Christian  must  be  prepared  to 
lay  down  his  life  for  the  fulfilment  of  Christ's  commandments  about 
this,  that  men  should  love  one  another,  and  so  must  be  prepared  to 
sacrifice  his  life,  rather  than  to  kill  men. 

From  Matthew,  the  end  of  verse  22  of  Chap.  X.  is  quoted,  "He 
that  endm-eth  to  the  end  shall  be  saved,"  apparently  in  this  sense, 
that  a  soldier  who  will  fight  bravely  will  be  saved  from  the  enemy. 
Again  the  meaning  of  this  passage  is  the  very  opposite  of  the  one 
which  the  author  wants  to  give  to  it. 

The  whole  ver.se  runs  as  follows  :  "And  ye  shall  be  hated  by  all 
men  for  my  name's  sake  :  but  he  that  endureth  to  the  end  shall  be 
saved." 

Thus  it  is  obvious  that  this  verse  cannot  have  reference  to  the 
soldiers  :  the  soldiers  ai-e  not  hated  by  any  one  in  the  name  of  Christ, 
and  so  it  is  clear  that  only  those  men  who  decline  in  the  name  of 
Christ  to  do  what  the  world  demands  of  them  are  those  who  are  hated 
in  the  name  of  Christ,  and  in  the  present  case  these  are  the  soldiers 
who  do  not  obey,  when  they  are  commanded  to  kill. 

Again  there  is  quoted  the  end  of  Matt.  x.  39,  "  He  that  lo.seth  his 
life  shall  find  it,"  again  in  this  sense,  that  he  who  shall  be  killed  in 
war  will  receive  his  reward  in  heaven.  But  the  meaning  is  obviously 
not  that.  In  verse  38  it  says,  "  And  he  that  taketh  not  his  cross,  and 
foUoweth  after  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me."  And  only  after  that  is 
added,  "  He  that  findeth  his  life  shall  lose  it :  and  he  that  loseth  his 
life  for  my  sake  shall  find  it,"  that  is,  that  he  who  for  the  sake  of 
fulfilling  the  teaching  of  love  shall  save  his  carnal  life,  will  lose  his 
true  life,  while  he  who,  for  the  sake  of  fulfilling  the  teaching,  does 
not  save  his  carnal  life,  will  attain  the  true,  spiritual,  everlasting  life. 

And  so  the  three  passages  do  not  say,  as  the  author  wants  them 
to,  that,  in  obeying  the  authorities,  it  is  necessary  to  fight,  beat,  and 
chew  men,  but,  on  the  contrary,  all  three  passages,  like  the  Gospel  in 
general,  say  one  and  the  same  thing,  that  a  Christian  cannot  be  a 
murderer  and,  therefore,  a  soldier.  And  so  the  words,  "  A  soldier  is 
Christ's  warrior,"  placed  in  the  Memente  after  the  Gospel  verses,  do 
not  mean  at  all  what  the  author  thinks,  'indeed,  a  soldier,  if  he  is  a 
Christian,  can  and  must  be  Christ's  warrior,  but  he  will  be  Christ's 
warrior,  not  when,  obeying  the  will  of  his  superiors,  who  have  pre- 


"  THE    soldiers'    MEMENTO  "  271 

pared  him  for  murder,  he  shall  kill  unarmed  men,  but  only  when  in 
the  name  of  Christ  he  will  refuse  to  follow  the  godless  and  disgrace- 
ful calling  of  a  soldier.  And  he  will  war,  not  upon  foreign  enemies, 
but  upon  his  superiors  who  are  deceiving  him  and  his  brothers,  and 
he  will  not  fight  with  the  bayonet,  or  with  fist,  or  teeth,  but  will  in 
humble  reasonableness  and  readiness  prefer  to  suffer  all  kinds  of  suf- 
ferings and  even  death,  rather  than  remain  a  soldier,  that  is,  a  man 
who  is  prepared  to  kill  those  who  are  pointed  out  to  him  by  his 
superiors.  — Author's  Note. 


*'THE  OFFICERS'    MEMENTO" 

1901 


<^THE  OFFICERS'    MEMENTO 


>> 


But,  whoso  shall  offend  one  of  these  little  ones  which 
believe  in  me,  it  were  belter  for  him  that  a  millstone 
were  hanged  about  his  neck,  and  that  he  were  drowned 
in  the  depth  of  the  sea. 

Wo  unto  the  world  because  of  offences  !  for  it  must 
needs  be  that  offences  come  ;  but  wo  to  that  man  by  whom 
the  offence  cometh  !     (Matt,  xviii.  6,  7.) 

In  all  soldier  quarters  there  hangs  upon  the  wall  a 
so-called  Soldiers'  Memento,  composed  by  General  Drago- 
mirov.  This  Memento  is  a  conglomeration  of  stupid, 
slangy,  supposedly  popular  words  (though  they  are  quite 
foreign  to  any  soldier),  mixed  with  blasphemous  quotations 
from  the  Gospel.  Gospel  sayings  are  adduced  in  con- 
firmation of  the  statement  that  the  soldiers  must  kill  and 
chew  their  enemies :  "  If  the  bayonet  is  broken,  fight 
with  your  fists ;  if  your  fists  give  out,  hang  on  with  your 
teeth."  At  the  end  of  the  Memento  it  says  that  God  is 
the  soldiers'  general. 

Nothing  proves  more  conclusively  than  this  Memento 
to  what  a  terrible  degree  of  ignorance,  slavish  obedience, 
and  bestiality  our  Russians  have  come.  Ever  since  this 
most  terrible  blasphemy  has  made  its  appearance  and 
was  hung  up  in  all  the  barracks,  —  and  this  was  done 
very  long  ago,  —  not  one  chief,  not  one  priest,  who,  one 
would  think,  would  directly  be  affected  by  the  distortion 
of  the  meaning  of  the  Gospel  texts,  has  expressed  his 
condemnation  of  this  disgusting  production,  and  it  con- 

276 


276  "  THE  officers'  memento 


?> 


timies  to  be  printed  in  millions  of  copies  and  to  be 
read  by  millions  of  soldiers,  who  accept  this  terrible  work 
as  a  guide  in  their  activity. 

This  Memento  long  ago  roused  my  indignation,  and 
now,  fearing  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  do  so  again  before 
my  death,  I  have  written  an  address  to  the  soldiers,  in 
which  I  try  to  remind  them  that,  as  men  and  Christians, 
they  have  quite  different  obligations  before  God  than 
those  which  are  put  forth  in  this  Memento.  Such  a 
reminder,  I  think,  is  not  only  necessary  for  the  soldiers, 
but  to  an  even  greater  degree  for  the  officerdom  (by 
officerdom  I  mean  all  the  military  authorities,  from  the 
ensign  to  the  general),  which  enters  military  service  or 
remains  in  it,  not  from  compulsion,  like  the  soldiers,  but 
from  choice.  This  reminder,  it  seems  to  me,  is  partic- 
ularly needed  in  our  time. 

It  was  all  very  well  one  hundred  or  fifty  years  ago, 
when  war  was  considered  to  be  an  inevitable  condition 
of  the  life  of  nations,  when  the  men  belonging  to  the 
nation  with  which  war  was  waged  were  considered  bar- 
barians, infidels,  or  malefactors,  and  when  it  did  not  even 
occur  to  the  military  that  they  would  be  needed  far  the 
suppression  and  pacification  of  their  own  nations,  —  it  was 
all  very  well  then  for  a  man  to  put  on  a  bright-coloured, 
lace-covered  uniform,  to  walk,  causing  the  sabre  to  rattle 
and  the  spurs  to  tinkle,  or  to  let  his  horse  go  through 
evolutions  in  front  of  the  regiment,  imagining  that  he  was 
a  hero  who,  if  he  had  not  yet  sacrificed,  was  prepared  to 
sacrifice  his  life  in  the  defence  of  his  country.  But  now, 
when  the  frequent  international  relations  —  mercantile, 
social,  scientific,  artistic  —  have  so  brought  the  nations 
together  that  any  war  among  the  modern  nations  presents 
itself  in  the  form  of  a  family  dissension  which  violates 
the  most  sacred  ties  of  men ;  when  hundreds  of  peace 
societies  and  thousands  of  articles,  not  only  in  special  peri- 
odicals, but  also  in  the  general  newspapers,  never  cease 


"  THE    officers'    MEMENTO  "  277 

in  every  manner  possible  to  make  clear  the  madness 
of  militarism  and  the  possibihty,  eveu  the  necessity,  of 
abolishing  war;  when,  and  this  is  the  most  important 
thing  of  all,  the  military  have  more  and  more  frequently 
to  proceed,  not  against  a  foreign  enemy,  in  order  to  defend 
the  country  against  attacking  conquerors  or  to  increase 
the  country's  glory  and  power,  but  against  unarmed 
factory  hands  and  peasants,  —  the  galloping  on  a  steed, 
in  a  lace-bedecked  uniform,  and  the  dandyish  appear- 
ance in  front  of  the  company  no  longer  is  a  case  of  trifling, 
pardonable  ambition,  which  it  used  to  be  formerly,  but 
something  quite  different. 

In  olden  times,  say  in  the  days  of  Nicholas  I.,  it  never 
as  much  as  occurred  to  any  one  that  the  armies  were  needed 
preeminently  for  the  purpose  of  shooting  unarmed  citizens. 
But  now  troops  are  regularly  quartered  in  the  capitals 
and  manufacturing  centres,  so  as  to  be  ready  to  disperse 
working  men,  and  hardly  a  month  passes  but  that  the 
troops  are  taken  out  of  their  barracks  with  their  ball- 
cartridges  and  are  located  in  a  protected  place,  ready  at 
any  moment  to  shoot  at  the  masses. 

The  use  of  the  army  against  the  masses  has  not  only 
become  a  customary  phenomenon,  but  the  troops  are  in 
advance  formed  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  ready  for  such 
emergencies.  The  government  does  not  conceal  the  fact 
that  the  distribution  of  recruits  according  to  districts  is 
intentionally  made  in  such  a  way  that  the  s#ldiers  are 
never  drafted  from  the  localities  where  they  are  quartered. 
This  is  done  so  as  to  avoid  the  necessity  of  having  the 
soldiers  shoot  at  their  own  parents. 

The  Emperor  of  Germany  has  said  plainly  at  every 
levy  of  recruits  (his  speech  of  May  23,  1901)  that  the 
soldiers  swearing  allegiance  to  him  belong  to  him,  body 
and  soul,  and  that  they  have  but  one  enemy,  and  that  is, 
his  enemy,  and  that  his  enemies  are  the  socialists  (that  is-, 
the  working  people),  whom  the  soldiers   must,  if  com- 


278  "the  officers'  memento 


» 


manded,  shoot  down  ("  niederscMcssen "),  even  though 
these  be  their  own  brothers  or  even  parents. 

Besides,  if  in  former  times  the  troops  were  used  against 
the  masses,  those  against  whom  they  were  used  were,  or 
at  least  were  supposed  to  be,  malefactors,  ready  to  ruin 
and  kill  peaceful  citizens,  who,  therefore,  had  to  be 
destroyed  for  the  common  good.  But  now  everybody 
knows  that  those  against  w^hom  the  troops  are  sent  out 
are  for  the  most  part  peaceable,  industrious  people,  who 
merely  desire  without  interference  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of 
their  labours.  Thus  the  chief  and  constant  use  of  troops 
in  our  time  no  longer  consists  in  an  imaginary  defence 
against  infidel  and  in  general  foreign  enemies,  nor  against 
riotous  malefactors,  domestic  enemies,  but  in  killing  their 
unarmed  brothers,  who  are  not  all  malefactors,  but  peace- 
able, industrious  people,  who  only  do  not  wish  to  have 
what  they  earn  taken  away  from  them.  Thus  military 
service  in  our  time,  when  its  chief  purpose  is  by  the 
threat  of  killing  and  by  murder  itself  to  retain  the  en- 
slaved people  in  those  unjust  conditions  in  which  they 
are,  is  no  longer  a  noble,  but  a  despicable  business. 

And  so  it  is  necessary  for  the  officers  who  are"  now 
serving  to  think  about  whom  they  are  serving,  and  to 
ask  themselves  whether  what  they  are  doing  is  good  or 
bad. 

I  know  there  are  many  officers,  especially  among  the 
higher  ranks,  who  by  all  kinds  of  reflections  on  the  sub- 
ject of  Orthodoxy,  autocracy,  integrity  of  the  state,  the 
inevitableness  of  imminent  war,  the  need  of  order,  the 
senselessness  of  the  socialistic  ravings,  and  so  forth,  try  to 
prove  to  themselves  that  their  activity  is  rational  and 
useful,  and  has  nothing  immoral  about  it.  But  in  the 
depth  of  their  hearts  they  themselves  do  not  believe  in 
what  they  say,  and  the  more  sensible  and  the  older  they 
are,  the  less  do  they  believe  in  it. 

I  remember  how  pleasantly  I   was   surprised  by  my 


"the  officers'  memento"  279 

friend  and  comrade  in  the  service,  a  very  ambitious  man, 
who  had  devoted  all  his  life  to  military  service  and  had 
attained  the  highest  ranks  and  distinctions  (he  was  an 
adjutant-general  and  a  general  of  artillery),  when  he  told 
me  that  he  had  burned  his  memoirs  on  the  wars  in  which 
he  had  taken  part,  because  he  had  changed  his  view  on 
military  matters  and  now  considered  every  war  a  bad 
business,  which  ought  not  to  be  encouraged  by  busying 
oneself  with  it,  but,  on  the  contrary,  ought  in  every 
way  possible  to  be  discredited.  Many  officers  beheve 
the  same  thing,  though  they  do  not  say  so,  while  they 
serve.  In  fact,  no  thinking  officer  can  think  differ- 
ently. We  need  but  tliink  what,  beginning  with  the 
lowest  ranks  and  ending  with  the  highest,  that  of  a 
commander  of  a  corps,  constitutes  the  occupation  of  all 
the  officers.  From  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  their  serv- 
ice, —  I  am  speaking  of  the  officers  in  active  service,  — 
their  activity,  with  the  exception  of  rare,  short  periods, 
when  they  go  to  war  and  are  busy  with  murder,  consists 
in  the  attainment  of  two  ends,  —  ui  instructing  the  sol- 
diers in  the  best  possible  way  to  kill  men  and  in  teaching 
them  such  obedience  that  they  will  be  able  mechanically, 
without  any  reflection,  to  do  what  their  chief  may  de- 
mand of  them.  In  olden  times  they  used  to  say,  "  flog 
two  unmercifully  and  get  one  well  instructed,"  and  so  they 
did.  If  now  the  percentage  of  flogged  is  less,  the  prin- 
ciple remains  the  same.  People  cannot  be  brought  to 
that  animal  and  even  mechanical  condition,  when  they 
will  do  what  is  most  repugnant  to  their  natures  and  the 
faith  professed  by  them,  namely,  murder,  at  the  command 
of  any  superior,  unless  not  only  cunning  deception  but 
even  most  cruel  violence  has  been  practised  against  them. 
And  so  it  is  done. 

Lately  a  great  sensation  was  created  in  the  French 
press  by  the  disclosure  of  some  journalists  as  to  the  ter- 
rible tortures  practised  on  the  soldiers  of  the  disciplinary 


280  "the  officers'  memento" 

battalions  in  the  island  of  Obrou,  within  six  hours'  travel 
from  Paris.  The  persons  punished  had  their  arms  and 
legs  tied  together  behind  their  backs  and  were  thrown  ou 
the  floor,  screws  were  put  on  the  thumbs  of  the  hands, 
which  were  bent  behind  their  backs,  and  these  screws 
were  so  tightened  that  every  motion  produced  excru- 
ciating pain,  men  were  suspended  by  their  legs,  and  so 
forth. 

When  we  see  trained  animals  performing  what  is  con- 
trary to  their  natures,  —  dogs  walking  on  their  fore  legs, 
elephants  whirling  barrels,  tigers  playing  with  lions,  and 
so  forth,  —  we  know  that  all  this  has  been  obtained  by 
tortures,  by  means  of  hunger,  the  whip,  and  the  hot  iron. 
We  know  the  same  when  we  see  men,  in  uniforms  and 
with  their  guns,  stand  stark  still,  or  go  through  the  same 
motion  with  absolute  regularity,  run,  jump,  shoot,  shout, 
and  so  forth,  in  general  execute  those  beautiful  parades 
and  manoeuvres,  which  the  emperors  and  kings  admire  so 
much  and  brag  of  to  one  another.  It  is  impossible  to 
drive  everything  human  out  of  a  man  and  to  bring  liim 
to  the  condition  of  a  machine,  without  torturing  him,  not 
in  a  simple  way,  but  in  the  most  refined  and  cruel  man- 
ner, both  torturing  and  deceiving  him. 

All  this  you  officers  do.  In  this,  with  the  rare  excep- 
tions when  you  go  to  war,  does  your  service,  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest  ranks,  consist. 

To  you  comes  a  youth  who  is  taken  away  from  his 
family  and  is  settled  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  world,  and 
who  is  impressed  with  the  idea  that  the  deceptive  oath, 
forbidden  by  the  Gospel,  which  he  has  taken,  binds  him 
irretrievably,  just  as  a  cock  placed  on  the  floor,  on  which 
a  chalk-line  is  drawn  from  his  beak,  imagines  that  he  is 
tied  with  this  line.  He  comes  to  you  with  full  humihty 
and  with  the  hope  that  you,  the  elders,  who  are  wiser  and 
more  learned  than  he,  wiU  teach  him  everything  that  is 
good.     But  you,  instead  of  freeing  him  from  those  super- 


"the  officers'  memento"  281 

stitions  which  he  has  brought  with  him,  inoculate  in 
him  new,  most  senseless,  coarse,  and  harmful  supersti- 
tions :  about  the  sacredness  of  the  flag,  the  almost  divine 
significance  of  the  Tsar,  the  duty  of  submitting  without 
a  murmur  to  the  authorities.  When,  with  tlie  aid  of 
methods  worked  out  in  your  business  for  the  stultification 
of  men,  you  bring  him  to  a  condition  worse  than  that  of 
an  animal,  in  which  he  is  ready  to  kill  anybody  he  is 
commanded  to  kill,  even  his  unarmed  brothers,  you 
proudly  show  him  to  the  higher  power  and  receive  thanks 
and  rewards  for  this.  It  is  terrible  for  a  man  to  be  a 
murderer  himself,  but  by  means  of  cunning  and  cruel 
methods  to  bring  to  this  his  brothers  who  confide  in  him 
is  a  most  terrible  crime.  And  this  you  are  committing, 
and  in  this  does  your  service  consist. 

So  it  is  not  surprising  that  among  you,  more  than  in 
any  other  circle,  flourish  all  those  things  which  can 
drown  conscience,  —  smoking,  cards,  drunkenness,  de- 
bauchery,—  and  that  more  frequently  than  anywhere 
else  occur  suicides. 

"  It  must  be  that  offences  come  into  the  world ;  but 
woe  to  them  by  whom  the  ofi'ences  come." 

You  frequently  say  that  you  serve,  because,  if  you  did 
not  serve,  the  existing  order  would  be  impaired  and  there 
would  be  disorder  and  all  kinds  of  calamities. 

But,  in  the  first  place,  it  is  not  true  that  you  are  con- 
cerned about  the  maintenance  of  the  existing  order :  you 
are  only  concerned  about  your  personal  advantage. 

In  the  second  place,  even  if  your  refraining  from  doing 
military  service  should  impair  the  existing  order,  this 
would  not  at  all  prove  that  you  must  continue  to  do  what 
is  bad,  but  only  that  the  order  which  will  be  destroyed 
through  your  abstinence  ought  to  be  destroyed.  Even  if 
there  existed  the  most  useful  institutions,  such  as  hos- 
pitals, schools,  homes  for  the  aged,  which  would  be 
maintained  from  the  revenue  derived  from  houses  of  pros- 


282  "the  officers'  memento" 

titutiou,  all  the  usefulness  of  these  charitable  institutions 
could  not  keep  in  her  condition  a  woman  who  should 
wish  to  free  herself  from  her  disgraceful  calling. 

"  It  is  not  my  fault,"  the  woman  would  say,  "  that  you 
have  established  your  charitable  institutions  on  debauch- 
ery. I  do  not  want  to  be  a  harlot,  and  with  your  insti- 
tutions I  have  nothing  to  do."  The  same  ought  to  be  said 
by  every  military  man,  when  he  is  told  of  the  necessity  of 
maintaining  the  existing  order,  which  is  based  on  the 
readiness  to  commit  nmrder,  "  Establish  a  general  order, 
such  that  murder  will  not  be  necessary  for  it,"  is  what  a 
military  man  should  say,  "  and  I  will  not  violate  it.  I 
simply  do  not  want  to  be  a  murderer." 

Many  others  of  you  say  :  "  I  was  educated  that  way,  I 
am  fettered  by  my  position,  and  I  cannot  get  out  of  it." 
But  even  that  is  not  true. 

You  can  always  get  out  of  your  position.  If  you 
do  not,  it  is  because  you  prefer  to  live  and  act  against 
your  conscience,  rather  than  lose  some  of  the  worldly 
advantages  which  you  derive  from  your  dishonourable 
calling.  Only  forget  that  yOu  are  officers  and  remember 
that  you  are  men,  and  the  way  out  from  your  condition 
will  at  once  present  itself  to  you.  This  way  out,  the 
best  and  most  honourable,  consists  in  this,  that  you  call 
together  the  part  which  you  command,  step  to  the  front, 
beg  the  soldiers'  pardon  for  the  wrong  which  you  have 
done  them  by  deceiving  them,  and  stop  being  a  military 
man.  This  act  seems  very  bold  and  seems  to  call  for 
much  courage ;  and  yet,  much  less  courage  is  needed  in 
this  act  than  in  storming  a  fort  or  cliallenging  to  a  duel 
for  an  insult  to  your  uniform,  —  what  you  are  always 
ready  to  do  and  always  do  in  your  capacity  as  a  military 
man. 

But  even  if  you  are  not  able  to  act  in  this  manner,  you 
are  still  able,  if  you  have  come  to  understand  the  crim- 
inality of  military  service,  to  leave  that  service  and  prefer 


"  THE    officers'    MEMENTO  "  283 

any  other  activity  to  it,  even  though  it  be  less  advan- 
tageous. 

But  if  you  are  not  able  to  do  even  that,  the  solution  of 
the  question  as  to  whether  you  will  continue  to  serve 
will  be  put  off  for  you  until  the  time  —  and  this  time 
will  soon  arrive  for  everybody  —  when  you  shall  stand 
face  to  face  with  an  unarmed  crowd  of  peasants  or  factory 
hands,  and  you  shall  be  commanded  to  shoot  at  them. 
And  then  if  any  human  feeling  is  left  in  you,  you  will 
be  compelled  to  refuse  to  obey  and  in  consequence  of  this 
will  certainly  leave  the  service. 

I  know  there  are  many  officers  still,  from  the  highest 
to  the  lowest  ranks,  who  are  so  ignorant  or  so  hypnotized 
that  they  do  not  see  the  necessity  of  any  of  these  three 
conclusions,  and  calmly  continue  to  serve  and  under  the 
present  conditions  are  prepared  to  shoot  at  their  brothers 
and  are  even  proud  of  the  fact ;  fortunately,  public  opin- 
ion more  and  more  punishes  these  men  with  contempt 
and  loathing,  and  their  number  is  growing  less  and  less. 

Thus  in  our  time,  when  the  fratricidal  purpose  of  the 
array  has  become  obvious,  it  is  impossible  for  the  officers 
to  continue  the  ancient  traditions  of  the  military  self- 
satisfied  bravado ;  they  cannot  even,  without  recognizing 
their  human  degradation  and  shame,  continue  the  crimi- 
nal business  of  teaching  simple  people  who  have  faith  in 
them  how  to  commit  murder,  and  themselves  be  ready 
to  take  part  in  the  murder  of  unarmed  men. 

It  is  this  that  every  thinking  and  conscientious  officer 
of  our  time  should  understand  and  remember. 

Odspra,  December  7, 1901. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  W.  VON 
POLENZ'S  ^^DER  BUTTNER- 
BAUER" 

1902 


INTRODUCTION  TO  W.  VON 
POLENZ'S  ^^DER  BUTTNER- 
BAUER" 


Last  year  an  acquaintance  of  mine,  in  whose  taste  I 
have  confidence,  gave  me  a  German  novel,  Von  Polenz's 
Der  Bilttnerhauer,  to  read.  I  read  it,  and  I  was  surprised 
to  find  that  this  production,  which  appeared  about  two 
years  ago,  was  almost  unknown  to  people. 

This  novel  is  not  one  of  those  imitations  of  artistic 
productions  which  are  in  our  time  produced  in  such 
enormous  quantities,  but  a  real  artistic  production.  This 
novel  does  not  belong  to  those  descriptions  of  events  and 
persons,  which  present  no  interest  whatever  and  which 
are  artificially  connected  among  themselves  for  no  other 
reason  than  that  the  author,  having  learned  how  to  handle 
the  technique  of  artistic  descriptions,  wishes  to  write  a 
new  novel ;  nor  to  those  dissertations  on  a  given  theme, 
which,  clothed  in  the  form  of  a  drama  or  a  novel,  also 
pass  in  our  time  among  the  reading  public  for  artistic 
productions ;  nor  to  those  productions,  called  decadent, 
which  particularly  please  the  modern  public  for  the  very 
reason  that,  resembling  the  raving  of  a  maniac,  they  are 
something  of  the  nature  of  rebuses,  the  guessing  of  which 
forms  a  pleasant  occupation  and  at  the  same  time  is  con- 
sidered to  be  a  sign  of  refinement. 

287 


288     VON  POLENZ'S  "der  buttnerbauer 


J> 


This  novel  does  not  belong  to  any  of  these,  but  is  a 
really  artistic  production,  in  which  the  author  tells  what 
he  must  tell,  because  he  loves  that  of  which  he  tells,  and 
does  not  speak  with  reflections,  with  hazy  allegories,  but 
by  the  simple  means  with  which  artistic  contents  can  be 
rendered,  by  poetic  pictures,  —  not  fantastic,  unusual, 
incomprehensible  pictures,  which  are  united  without  any 
inner  necessity,  but  •  by  the  representation  of  the  most 
ordinary,  simple  persons  and  events,  which  are  united 
among  themselves  by  an  inner  artistic  necessity. 

This  novel  is  not  merely  a  real  artistic  production ; 
it  is  also  a  beautiful  artistic  production,  uniting  in  the 
highest  degree  all  the  three  important  conditions  of  a 
really  good  production  of  art. 

In  the  first  place,  its  contents  are  important,  in  that 
they  deal  with  the  life  of  the  peasantry,  that  is,  the 
majority  of  men,  who  stand  at  the  basis  of  every  social 
structure  and  who  in  our  time  are  passing,  not  only  in 
Germany,  but  also  in  all  the  other  European  countries, 
through  a  grave  change  of  their  ancient  structure  of  cen- 
turies. (It  is  remarkable  that  almost  simultaneously 
with  the  Bilttnerhauer  there  has  appeared  a  French  novel, 
E^n^  Bazin's  La  Terre  Qui  Meurt,  which  deals  with  the 
same  subject ;  it  is  quite  good,  though  less  artistic  than 
the  Biittnerhaiier.) 

In  the  second  place,  this  novel  is  written  with  great 
mastery,  in  a  beautiful  German,  which  is  particularly 
powerful,  when  the  author  makes  his  characters  speak  in 
the  coarse,  manly  Plattdeutsch  of  the  labouring  classes. 

And,  in  the  third  place,  this  novel  is  all  permeated 
with  love  for  those  nien  whom  the  author  lets  act. 

In  one  of  the  chapters,  for  example,  we  have  a  descrip- 
tion of  a  man  who,  after  a  night  passed  in  drunkenness 
with  his  companions,  early  in  the  morning  returns  home 
and  knocks  at  the  door.  His  wife  looks  out  of  the  window 
and  recognizes  him ;  she  showers  him  with  curses  and  is 


VON  POLENZ'S  ^'der  buttnerbauer  "  289 

intentioDally  slow  in  letting  him  in.  When,  at  last,  she 
opens  the  door  for  him,  he  rolls  into  the  liouse  and  wants 
to  go  to  the  large  living-room,  but  his  wife  does  not 
allow  him  to  go  there,  lest  the  children  should  see  their 
drunken  father,  and  she  pushes  him  back.  But  he  takes 
hold  of  the  door-posts,  and  struggles  with  her.  Though 
he  is  usually  a  peaceable  man,  he  now  suddenly  gets 
irritated  (the  cause  of  the  irritation  is  this,  that  on  the 
previous  day  she  took  the  money  given  to  him  by  some 
gentlemen  out  of  his  pocket  and  hid  it),  and  in  his  mad- 
ness throws  himself  upon  her  and,  seizing  her  by  her  hair, 
demands  his  money. 

"  I  will  not  give  it  to  you,  never ! "  she  replies  to  his 
demands,  trying  to  free  herself  from  him. 

"  I'll  die,  but  I  won't  give  it  to  you  ! "  she  says. 

"  You  will ! "  he  yells,  knocking  her  off  her  feet.  He 
falls  upon  her,  and  continues  to  demand  his  money. 
Eeceiving  no  answer,  he  in  his  drunken  fit  of  anger  wants 
to  strangle  her.  But  the  sight  of  blood  which  runs  down 
her  brow  and  nose  from  underneath  her  hair  arrests  him  : 
he  feels  terribly  at  what  he  has  done,  and  he  stops  beat- 
ing her  and,  tottering,  reaches  his  bed,  where  he  falls 
down. 

The  scene  is  true  and  terrible.  But  the  author  loves 
his  heroes  and  adds  one  small  detail,  which  suddenly 
illumines  everything  with  such  a  bright  ray  of  hght  that 
he  makes  the  reader  not  only  pity,  but  even  love  these  men, 
in  spite  of  all  their  coarseness  and  cruelty.  The  beaten 
wife  comes  to  her  senses,  gets  up  from  the  floor,  wipes  her 
bloody  head  with  the  lower  part  of  her  skirt,  feels  her 
limbs,  and,  opening  the  door  to  the  room  in  which  are 
her  crying  children,  quiets  them,  and  then  seeks  her  hus- 
band vnth  her  eyes.  He  is  lying  on  his  bed  just  as 
he  fell  down  upon  it,  but  his  head  is  hanging  down  from 
the  head  of  the  bed  and  is  filHng  with  blood.  His  wife 
walks  over  to  him,  carefully  raises  his  head,  and  puts  it 


290     VON  POLENZ'S  "der  buttnerbauer  " 

on  the  pillow,  and  only  then  adjusts  her  clothes  and 
detaches  a  handful  of  hair  which  has  been  pulled  out. 

Dozens  of  pages  of  discussions  will  not  tell  everything 
that  is  told  by  this  detail.  Here  the  consciousness,  edu- 
cated by  tradition,  of  conjugal  duty,  and  the  triumph  of 
the  set  determination  not  to  give  up  the  money,  which 
not  she,  but  the  family  needs,  are  at  once  revealed  to  the 
reader ;  here  also  we  have  the  offence,  and  the  forgiveness 
for  the  beating,  and  pity,  and,  if  not  love,  at  least  the 
recollection  of  the  love  for  the  husband,  the  father  of  her 
children.  But  that  is  not  all.  Such  a  detail,  by  throw- 
ing a  light  on  the  inner  life  of  this  woman  and  this  man, 
at  the  same  time  illuminates  for  the  reader  the  inner  life 
of  millions  of  such  husbands  and  wives,  of  those  who 
have  lived  before  and  who  live  now ;  it  not  only  inspires 
respect  and  love  for  these  people  who  are  crushed  by 
work,  but  also  makes  us  stop  and  wonder  why  it  is  that 
these  physically  and  spiritually  strong  people,  with  such 
possibilities  of  a  good  life  of  love,  are  so  neglected,  so 
crushed,  and  so  ignorant. 

Such  truly  artistic  features,  which  are  revealed  only 
through  the  love  of  the  author  for  what  he  writes  about, 
may  be  found  in  every  chapter  of  the  novel. 

This  novel  is  unquestionably  a  beautiful  production  of 
art,  as  all  those  who  read  it  will  agree.  And  yet  this 
novel  appeared  three  years  ago,  and,  though  it  was  trans- 
lated in  Eussia  in  the  Messenger  of  Uurojye,  it  has  passed 
unnoticed,  both  in  Eussia  and  in  Germany.  I  have  lately 
asked  several  literary  Germans  whom  I  have  met  about 
this  novel,  —  they  had  heard  Polenz's  name,  but  had  not 
read  his  novel,  though  they  had  all  read  Zola's  last  novels, 
and  Kipling's  stories,  and  Ibsen's  dramas,  and  D'Annunzio, 
and  even  Maeterlinck. 

About  twenty  years  ago  Matthew  Arnold  wrote  a 
beautiful  article  on  the  purpose  of  criticism.  According 
to  his  opinion,  it  is  the  purpose  of  criticism  to  find  what 


V02T  poLENz's  "dee  buttnerbauer "     291 

is  most  important  and  good  in  any  book  whatever, 
wherever  and  whenever  written,  and  to  direct  the  reader's 
attention  to  what  is  important  and  good  in  them. 

Such  a  criticism  not  only  seems  to  me  indispensable 
in  our  time,  when  people  are  deluged  with  newspapers, 
periodicals,  and  books,  and  when  advertising  has  been 
so  widely  developed,  but  on  whether  such  criticism  will 
make  its  appearance  and  will  gain  authority  does  the 
whole  future  of  the  enhghtenment  of  the  whole  cultured 
class  of  our  European  world  depend. 

The  overproduction  of  any  article  is  harmful ;  but  the 
overproduction  of  articles  which  do  not  form  an  end,  but 
a  means,  when  people  regard  this  means  as  an  end,  is 
particularly  harmful. 

Horses  and  carriages,  as  means  of  transportation,  gar- 
ments and  houses,  as  means  of  protection  against  the 
changes  of  weather,  good  food,  as  a  means  for  the  preser- 
vation of  the  strength  of  the  organism,  are  very  useful. 
But  the  moment  men  begin  to  look  upon  possession  of 
the  mgans  as  an  end,  considering  it  good  to  have  as  many 
horses,  houses,  garments,  and  articles  of  food  as  possible, 
these  articles  become,  not  only  useless,  but  absolutely 
harmful.  This  fate  befell  printing  also  in  the  well-to-do 
circle  of  men  of  our  European  society.  Printing,  which 
is  unquestionably  useful  for  the  vast  masses  of  the  little 
educated,  has  in  the  midst  of  the  well-to-do  people  for  a 
long  time  served  as  the  chief  instrument  for  the  diffusion 
of  ignorance,  and  not  of  enlightenment. 

It  is  very  easy  to  become  convinced  of  this.  Books, 
periodicals,  especially  the  newspapers,  have  in  our  time 
become  great  financial  undertakings,  for  the  success  of 
which  the  largest  possible  number  of  purchasers  are 
needed.  Now  the  interests  and  tastes  of  the  largest  pos- 
sible number  of  purchasers  are  always  low  and  vulgar, 
and  so,  for  the  success  of  the  productions  of  the  press,  it 
is  necessary  that  the  productions  should  respond  to  the 


292       VON    POLENZ'S    "DER   BiiTTNERBAUER " 

demands  of  the  great  majority  of  the  purchasers,  that  is, 
that  they  should  touch  upon  the  low  interests  and  corre- 
spond to  the  vulgar  tastes.  The  press  fully  satisfies  these 
demands,  which  it  is  quite  able  to  do,  since  among  the 
number  of  workers  for  the  press  there  are  many  more 
people  with  the  same  low  interests  and  vulgar  tastes  as 
the  public,  than  men  with  high  interests  and  a  refined 
taste.  And  since,  with  the  diffusion  of  printing  and  the 
commercial  methods  used  with  periodicals,  newspapers, 
and  books,  these  people  receive  good  pay  for  their  produc- 
tions, which  supply  the  demands  of  the  masses,  there 
results  that  terrible,  ever  growing  and  growing  deluge  of 
printed  paper,  which  by  its  mass  alone,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  harm  of  its  contents,  forms  a  vast  obstacle  to 
enlightenment. 

If  in  our  time  a  bright  man  from  among  the  masses, 
who  wants  to  educate  liimself,  have  access  to  all  books, 
periodicals,  and  newspapers,  and  be  allowed  to  choose  his 
own  reading,  all  the  chances  are  that  in  the  course  of  ten 
years,  reading  assiduously  every  day,  he  will  be  r§ading 
nothing  but  foolish  and  immoral  books.  It  is  as  un- 
likely that  he  will  strike  a  good  book  as  it  would  be  to 
find  a  marked  pea  in  a  bushel  of  peas.  The  worst  thing 
about  it  is  this,  that  reading  nothing  but  poor  works,  he 
will  more  and  more  corrupt  his  understanding  and  taste. 
Thus,  if  he  does  strike  upon  some  good  work,  he  will 
either  not  understand  it  at  all  or  will  understand  it 
perversely. 

Besides,  thanks  to  accident  or  to  masterly  advertis- 
ing, certain  poor  productions,  like  Hall  Caine's  The 
Christian,  a  novel  which  is  false  in  contents  and  not  at 
all  artistic,  and  of  which  a  million  copies  were  sold, 
obtain,  like  Odol  and  Pear's  Soap,  great  popularity,  which 
is  not  justified  by  their  merits.  This  great  popularity 
makes  an  ever  increasing  number  of  men  read  these  books, 
and  the  fame  of  an  insignificant  and  frequently  harmful 


VON  POLENZ'S  "der  buttnerbauer  "     293 

book  keeps  growing  and  growing  like  a  snowball,  and  in 
the  heads  of  the  vast  majority  of  men,  again  like  a  snow- 
ball, there  is  formed  a  greater  and  ever  greater  confusion 
of  ideas,  and  an  absolute  inability  to  comprehend  the  value 
of  literary  productions.  And  so,  in  proportion  as  the 
newspapers,  periodicals,  and  books  —  printing  in  general 
—  become  more  and  more  disseminated,  the  level  of  the 
value  of  what  is  printed  falls  lower  and  lower,  and  the 
great  mass  of  the  so-called  cultured  public  sinks  more 
and  more  into  a  most  hopeless,  self-satisfied,  and,  so, 
incorrigible  ignorance. 

Within  my  memory,  in  the  period  of  fifty  years,  there 
has  taken  place  this  striking  lowering  of  the  taste  and 
common  sense  of  the  reading  public.  This  lowering  may 
be  followed  out  in  all  the  branches  of  literature,  but  I 
will  point  out  only  the  most  perceptible  examples,  as 
known  to  me.  In  Russian  poetry,  for  example,  after 
Pushkin  and  L^rmontov  (Tyutchev  is  generally  forgotten), 
the  poetic  fame  passes  at  first  to  the  doubtful  poets  May- 
kov,  Polonski,  Fet,  then  to  Nekrasov,  who  is  entirely 
devoid  of  the  poetic  gift,  then  to  the  artificial  and  prosaic 
versifier  Aleksyey  Tolstoy,  then  to  the  monotonous,  weak 
Nadson,  then  to  the  absolutely  untalented  Apiikhtin,  then 
everything  becomes  mixed,  and  there  appear  versifiers,  and 
their  name  is  legion,  who  do  not  even  know  what  poetry 
is  or  what  that  which  they  write  means  or  why  they 
write. 

Another  striking  example  is  that  of  the  English  prose 
writers :  from  the  great  Dickens  we  descend,  at  first,  to 
George  Eliot,  then  to  Thackeray,  from  Thackeray  to  Trol- 
lope,  and  then  begins  the  indifferent  manufactures  of  a 
Kipling,  Hall  Caine,  Pdder  Haggard,  and  so  forth.  Still 
more  striking  is  this  in  American  literature :  after  the 
great  galaxy,  —  Emerson,  Thoreau,  Lowell,  Whittier,  and 
others,  suddenly  everything  breaks  off,  and  there  appear 
beautiful  editions   with  beautiful  illustrations  and  with 


294  VON  POLENZ'S  "der  buttnerbauer  " 

beautiful  stories,  and  novels,  which  it  is  impossible  to 
read  on  account  of  the  absence  of  any  and  all  contents. 

In  our  time  the  ignorance  of  the  cultured  crowd  has 
reached  such  a  pass  that  all  the  really  great  thinkers, 
poets,  prose  writers,  both  of  antiquity  and  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  are  considered  obsolete,  and  no  longer 
satisfy  the  high  and  refined  demands  of  the  new  men ;  all 
that  they  look  upon  either  with  contempt  or  with  a  con- 
descending smile.  As  the  last  word  of  philosophy  is  in 
our  time  regarded  the  immoral,  coarse,  inflated,  discon- 
nected babbling  of  Nietzsche ;  the  senseless,  artificial  con- 
glomeration of  words  of  all  kinds  of  decadent  poems, 
which  are  held  together  by  rhyme  and  measure,  are 
regarded  as  poetry  of  the  highest  calibre ;  in  all  the 
theatres  they  give  dramas,  the  meaning  of  which  is  not 
known  to  any  one,  not  even  to  the  author,  and  novels 
which  have  no  contents  and  no  artistic  merit  are  printed 
in  editions  of  a  million  copies  and  are  distributed  under 
the  guise  of  artistic  productions. 

"  What  shall  I  read,  in  order  to  complete  my  educa- 
tion ? "  asks  a  young  man  or  girl,  who  has  finished  at  a 
higher  institution  of  learning. 

The  same  is  asked  by  a  literate  man  from  the  masses, 
who  can  understand  what  he  reads  and  who  is  searching 
after  real  enlightenment. 

To  answer  such  questions  it  is  naturally  not  sufficient 
to  make  a  naive  attempt  at  interrogating  prominent  men 
as  to  what  books  they  consider  to  be  the  best. 

Nor  is  one  aided  by  the  subdivision  of  writers  into 
classes,  tacitly  accepted  by  European  society,  of  the  first, 
second,  third,  fourth  order,  and  so  forth, — of  geniuses, 
very  talented,  talented,  and  simply  good  writers.  Such  a 
subdivision  does  not  help  us  in  a  true  comprehension  of 
the  merits  of  literature  and  in  the  discovery  of  what  is 
good  amidst  a  sea  of  what  is  bad,  and  even  bothers  us  in 
it.     To  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  such  a  division  into 


VON  POLENZ'S  "der  buttnerbauer  "  295 

classes  is  very  frequently  incorrect  and  maintains  itself 
only  because  it  was  made  long  ago  and  is  accepted  bv  all, 
such  a  division  is  harmful,  because  very  mediocre  things 
will  be  found  among  the  authors  considered  first  class, 
while  most  excellent  things  may  be  found  in  the  authors 
of  the  last  di\asion.  Thus  a  man  who  will  believe  in  the 
division  of  the  authors  into  classes,  and  that  in  a  first-class 
author  everything  is  beautiful,  and  in  the  authors  of  a 
lower  class  or  in  those  who  are  entirely  unknown  every- 
thing is  weak,  will  only  get  mixed  up  in  his  comprehen- 
sion and  will  lose  much  which  is  truly  useful  and  truly 
enlightening. 

Nothing  but  the  true  criticism  can  answer  the  most 
important  question  of  our  time  of  the  youth  of  the  cul- 
tured class,  in  search  of  culture,  or  of  the  men  of  the 
masses,  in  search  of  enlightenment.  Not  the  criticism 
which  now  exists  and  which  sets  itself  the  task  of  lauding 
productions  that  have  gained  popularity  and  of  discover- 
ing justificatory  or  hazy  philosophico-iesthetic  theories  for 
these  productions,  nor  the  criticism  wliich  busies  itself 
with  more  or  less  wittily  ridicuhng  poor  productions  or 
the  works  from  a  hostile  camp,  and  still  less  the  criticism 
which  has  flourished  in  our  country  and  which  sets  itself 
the  task  from  the  types  represented  in  a  few  authors  to 
determine  the  direction  of  the  motion  of  all  society,  or  in 
general,  to  'pro'pos  of  the  literary  productions,  to  express 
their  economic  and  political  ideas. 

The  answer  to  this  vastly  important  question  as  to 
what  we  shall  read  out  of  the  mass  that  is  written  can 
be  given  only  by  the  true  criticism,  the  one  which,  as 
Matthew  Arnold  says,  will  make  it  its  aim  to  bring  to 
the  front  and  point  out  to  men  everything  which  is  best, 
both  in  past  and  in  present  writers. 

On  this,  whether  such  a  criticism  will  appear  or  not, 
an  unselfish  criticism,  belonging  to  no  party,  understand- 
ing and  loving  art,  and   whether  its  authority  will   be 


296  VON  POLENZ'S  "der  buttneebauer 


»» 


established  with  sujfficient  firmness  to  overcome  the  finan- 
cial advertisements,  does  in  my  opinion  depend  the 
solution  of  the  question  as  to  whether  the  last  rays  of 
enlightenment  in  our  so-called  cultured  European  society 
will  perish,  without  extending  to  the  masses,  or  whether 
the  enlightenment  will  be  regenerated,  as  it  was  regen- 
erated in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  whether  it  will  extend  to 
the  majority  of  the  masses,  who  now  are  deprived  of  all 
enlightenment. 

The  ignorance  of  the  pubhc  as  to  the  beautiful  novel  of 
Polenz,  as  well  as  to  many  other  good  productions,  which 
are  drowned  in  a  sea  of  printed  trash,  while  senseless, 
trifling,  and  simply  nasty  productions  of  literature  are 
discussed  on  all  sides,  invariably  praised  and  disseminated 
in  millions  of  copies,  has  evoked  these  thoughts  in  me, 
and  I  seize  upon  the  opportunity,  which  will  hardly  pre- 
sent itself  again  to  me,  to  express  them,  if  only  briefly. 


ON    RELIGIOUS    TOLERATION 

1902 


ON   RELIGIOUS    TOLERATION 


In  Eussia  there  exist  missionaries  whose  duty  it  is  to 
convert  all  the  non-Orthodox  to  Orthodoxy. 

Toward  the  end  of  1901  a  congress  of  these  mission- 
aries assembled  in  the  city  of  Orel,  and  at  the  end  of  this 
congress  the  government  marshal  of  nobility,  Mr.  Stakho- 
vich,  delivered  a  speech  in  which  he  proposed  to  the  con- 
gress to  recognize  full  hberty  of  conscience,  meaning  by 
these  words,  as  he  expressed  it,  not  only  liberty  of  belief, 
but  also  liberty  of  profession  of  faith,  which  includes  the 
liberty  of  defection  from  Orthodoxy  and  even  converting 
people  to  faiths  not  in  agreement  with  Orthodoxy.  Mr. 
Stakhovich  assumed  that  such  a  liberty  could  only  con- 
tribute to  the  triumph  and  dissemination  of  Orthodoxy,  of 
which  he  recognized  himself  as  being  a  believing  professor. 

The  members  of  the  congress  did  not  agree  to  Mr. 
Stakhovich's  proposition  and  did  not  even  discuss  it. 
Later  on  there  began  a  lively  exchange  of  ideas  and  a 
discussion  as  to  whether  the  Christian  church  should  be 
tolerant  or  not :  some,  the  majority  of  the  Orthodox,  both 
clerical  and  lay,  expressed  themselves  in  newspapers  and 
periodicals  against  toleration,  and,  for  one  reason  or 
another,  recognized  the  impossibility  of  stopping  the  per- 
secutions against  the  dissenting  members  of  the  church ; 
others,  the  minority,  agreed  with  Stakhovich's  opinion, 
approved  of  it,  and  argued  the  desirability  and  even  the 

299 


300  ON   RELIGIOUS   TOLEEITION 

necessity  for  the  church  of  recognizing  liberty  of  con- 
science. 

Those  who  dissented  from  Mr,  Stakhovich's  opinion 
said  that  the  church,  which  gave  the  everlasting  good  to 
men,  could  not  fail  to  use  all  the  means  at  its  command 
for  the  salvation  of  its  unreasoning  members  from  eternal 
perdition,  and  that  one  of  these  means  were  the  barriers 
set  by  the  temporal  power  against  defection  from  the  true 
church  and  the  conversion  of  its  members.  Above  all 
things,  they  said,  the  church,  which  received  from  God 
the  power  to  bind  and  loose,  always  knows  what  it  is 
doing  whenever  it  uses  violence  against  its  enemies. 

But  the  discussions  of  laymen  about  the  regularity  or 
irregularity  of  its  measures  only  show  the  delusions  of 
laymen  who  permit  themselves  to  discuss  the  actions 
of  the  infallible   church. 

Thus  spoke  and  always  speak  the  opponents  of  tolera- 
tion. 

But  its  advocates  assert  that  it  is  unjust  by  force  to 
prevent  the  profession  of  faiths  which  dissent  from  Ortho- 
doxy, and  that  the  subdivision  made  by  the  adversaries 
of  toleration  between  belief  and  external  profession  of 
faith  was  without  foundation,  since  every  belief  inevitably 
finds  an  expression  in  external  actions. 

Besides,  they  said,  for  the  true  church,  which  has 
Christ  at  its  head,  and  His  promise  that  no  one  shall 
overcome  His  church,  there  can  be  no  danger  from  the 
profession  of  the  lie  by  a  small  num-ber  of  heretics  or  dis- 
senters, the  more  so,  since  the  persecutions  themselves  do 
not  attain  their  end,  for  the  reason  that  martyrdom  only 
weakens  the  moral  authority  of  the  persecuting  church, 
and  increases  the  power  of  the  persecuted. 


The  advocates  of  toleration  say  that  the  church  must 
in  no  case  use  violence  against  its  dissenting  members 


ON    RELIGIOUS    TOLERATION  301 

and  against  those  who  profess  different  faiths.  The 
church  must  not  use  violence !  But  here  involuntarily 
arises  the  question  :  How  can  the  church  use  violence  ? 

The  Christian  church,  by  the  definition  which  it  gives 
itself,  is  a  society  of  men,  established  by  God,  which  has 
for  its  aim  the  transmission  to  men  of  the  true  faith, 
which  saves  them  in  this  world  and  in  the  world  to 
come. 

How,  then,  can  such  a  society  of  men,  who  have  for 
their  instruments  grace  and  the  sermon,  wish  for  violence 
and  actually  exert  it  against  people  who  do  not  accept 
their  belief  ? 

To  advise  the  church  not  to  persecute  men  who  dissent 
from  it  or  convert  its  members,  is  the  same  as  advising  an 
academy  of  learned  men  not  to  persecute,  punish,  deport, 
and  so  forth,  those  people  who  do  not  agree  with  their 
opinions.  An  academy  of  learned  men  cannot  wish  for 
such  things,  and  if  it  did,  it  cannot  do  so,  because  it  has 
no  instruments  with  which  to  do  it. 

What,  then,  signify  tliose  persecutions  which  since  the 
time  of  Constantine  have  been  employed  by  the  Christian 
church  and  which  the  advocates  of  religious  toleration 
advise  the  church  to  put  a  stop  to  ? 


Mr.  Stakhovich,  quoting  in  his  speech  Guizot's  words 
about  the  necessity  for  liberty  of  conscience  for  the  Chris- 
tian religion,  after  these  good  and  clear  words  of  Guizot 
adduces  the  bad  and  confused  words  of  Aksakov,  who 
substitutes  the  concept  of  "  church  "  for  that  of  "  Christian 
religion,"  and,  having  made  this  substitution,  tries  to 
prove  the  possibility  and  necessity  of  religious  toleration 
for  the  Christian  church.  But  Christian  religion  and 
Christian  church  are  not  one  and  the  same  thing,  and  we 
have  no  right  whatever  to  assume  that  what  is  proper  for 


302  ON   RELIGIOUS   TOLERATION 

the  Christian  religion  is  also   proper   for  the  Christian 
church. 

The  Christian  rehgion  is  that  higher  consciousness  of 
man's  relation  to  God,  which,  ascending  from  a  lower  to 
a  higher  degree  of  religious  consciousness,  has  been  attained 
by  humanity.  And  so  the  Christian  religion  and  all  men 
who  profess  the  true  Christian  rehgion,  knowing  that  they 
have  reached  a  certain  degree  of  clearness  and  a  certain 
height  of  the  religious  consciousness  only  thanks  to 
humanity's  constant  motion  from  darkness  to  light,  can- 
not help  but  be  tolerant.  By  recognizing  themselves  as 
in  possession  of  but  a  certain  degree  of  the  truth,  which 
is  made  clearer  and  clearer  and  rises  higher  and  higher 
only  through  the  united  efforts  of  humanity,  they,  in 
meeting  new  beliefs  which  differ  from  their  own,  not  only 
do  not  reject  them,  but  joyfully  welcome  them,  study 
them,  verify  their  own  behefs  according  to  them,  reject 
what  is  not  in  agreement  with  reason,  accept  what  eluci- 
dates and  advances  the  truth  professed  by  them,  and  still 
more  become  confirmed  in  what  is  the  same  in  all  beliefs. 

Such  is  the  property  of  the  Christian  rehgion  in  general, 
and  thus  act  the  men  who  profess  Christianity.  -  Not 
thus  the  church.  The  church,  by  recognizing  itself  as  the 
one  guardian  of  the  full,  divine,  eternal,  for  ever  unchange- 
able truth,  which  God  Himself  has  revealed  to  men,  can- 
not help  but  look  upon  every  religious  teaching  that 
differs  from  that  which  is  expressed  in  its  own  dogmas 
as  upon  a  lying,  harmful,  and  even  ill-intentioned  teach- 
ing (if  it  proceeds  from  those  who  know  the  condition  of 
the  church),  which  is  drawing  people  to  everlasting  per- 
dition. And  so,  by  its  own  definition,  the  church  cannot 
be  tolerant  and  cannot  help  using  against  all  the  faiths,  as 
also  against  the  professors  of  faiths  which  dissent  from 
its  own,  all  those  means  which  it  considers  in  keeping 
with  its  own  doctrine.  Thus  the  Christian  rehgion  and 
the  Christian  church  are  two  totally  different  conceptions. 


ON   RELIGIOUS   TOLERATION  303 

It  is  true,  every  church  asserts  that  it  is  the  only  repre- 
sentative of  Christianity,  but  the  Christian  rehgion,  that 
is,  the  professors  of  the  free  Christian  religion,  in  no  way 
considers  the  church  to  be  the  representative  of  Chris- 
tianity. The  professors  of  the  Christian  rehgion  could 
not  do  so,  since  there  are  many  churches,  and  each  regards 
itself  as  the  bearer  of  all  the  divine  truth. 

It  is  this  confusion  of  two  different  conceptions,  which 
is  constantly  used  by  the  churchmen  for  various  purposes, 
that  is  the  cause  why  all  their  discussions  about  the  de- 
sirability of  rehgious  toleration  for  the  church  suffer  from 
a  common  obscurity,  inflatedness,  indefiuiteness,  and  so 
complete  inconclusiveness. 

Such  are  in  Eussia  all  the  discussions  of  a  Khomya- 
kov,  Samarin,  Aksakov,  and  so  forth,  and  from  this  also 
suffers  Mr.  Stakbovich's  speech  They  are  all  not  only 
empty,  but  even  harmful  babbling,  which  again  drives 
incense  smoke  into  the  eyes  of  those  who  are  beginning 
to  be  freed  from  the  deception. 


Thus  the  answer  to  the  question  as  to  how  the  church, 
which  is  defined  as  a  society  of  men  having  for  their  pur- 
pose the  preaching  of  the  truth,  and  which  has  no  instru- 
ments of  violence  and  can  have  none,  can  none  the  less 
exert  violence  against  the  dissenting  faiths,  is  only  this, 
that  the  establishment  which  calls  itself  the  Christian 
church  is  not  a  Christian,  but  a  worldly  institution  which 
is  different  from  Christianity  and  is  rather  hostile  to  it. 

When  this  idea  first  came  to  me,  I  did  not  beheve  it,  so 
firmly  have  we  been  impressed  from  childhood  with  awe 
for  the  sacredness  of  the  church.  At  first  I  thought  that 
it  was  a  paradox,  that  in  such  a  definition  of  the  church 
there  was  some  mistake.  But  the  farther  I  proceeded  in 
viewing  this  question  from  all  sides,  the  more  indubitable 


304  ON   RELIGIOUS   TOLERATION 

it  became  to  me  that  the  definition  of  the  church  as  a 
non-Christian  institution,  hostile  to  Christianity,  was  pre- 
cise, and  that  without  it  we  could  not  explain  all  those 
contradictions  which  are  contained  in  the  past  and  the 
present  activity  of  the  church. 

Indeed,  what  is  the  church?  The  professors  of  the 
church  say  that  it  is  a  society,  established  by  Christ, 
which  has  been  entrusted  with  the  exclusive  care  and 
propaganda  of  the  unquestionable  divine  truth,  which 
was  testified  to  by  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
upon  the  members  of  the  church,  and  that  this  testimony 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  is  transmitted  from  generation  to  gen- 
eration by  the  putting  on  of  hands,  as  estabhshed  by 
Christ. 

But  we  need  only  analyze  the  data  by  which  this  is 
proved,  to  become  convinced  that  all  these  assertions  are 
quite  arbitrary.  The  two  texts  (of  the  Scripture,  which 
the  church  considers  sacred),  on  which  the  arguments 
about  the  estabhshment  of  the  church  by  Christ  Himself 
are  based,  do  not  have  at  all  the  significance  ascribed  to 
them  and  in  no  case  can  they  signify  the  establishment 
of  a  church,  since  the  very  concept  of  the  church  did  not 
at  all  exist  in  the  time  when  the  Gospel  was  written, 
much  less  in  the  time  of  Christ.  But  the  third  text  on 
which  they  base  their  exclusive  right  to  teach  the  divine 
truth,  the  final  verses  of  Mark  and  Matthew,  is  by  all 
the  investigators  of  Holy  Scripture  recognized  as  forged. 
Still  less  can  it  be  proved  that  the  descent  of  tongues  of 
fire  upon  the  heads  of  the  disciples,  which  was  seen  only 
by  the  disciples,  signifies  that  everything  which  shall  be 
said,  not  only  by  these  disciples,  but  also  by  all  those 
upon  whom  the  disciples  have  laid  their  hands,  will  be 
said  by  God,  that  is,  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  so  is  always 
unquestionably  true. 

The  main  thing  is  this,  that,  even  if  this  were  proved 
(which   is   quite  impossible),  there  is  no  possibility   of 


ON    RELIGIOUS    TOLERATION  305 

proving  that  this  gift  of  infallibility  abides  precisely  in 
the  cliurch  which  asserts  this  of  itself.  The  chief,  iusolv- 
able  ditliculty  is  this,  that  the  church  is  not  one  and 
that  every  church  asserts  concerning  itself  that  it  alone 
has  the  truth,  while  all  the  others  are  wrong.  Thus  the 
assertion  of  every  church  that  it  alone  has  the  truth  has 
really  as  much  weight  as  the  assertion  of  a  man  w^ho  says, 
"  Upon  my  word,  I  am  right,  and  all  those  who  disagree 
with  me  are  wrong." 

"  Upon  my  word,  we  alone  constitute  the  true  church," 
—  in  this  alone  are  all  the  proofs  of  the  infallibility  of 
every  church  to  be  found.  Such  a  basis,  in  itself  very 
shaky  and  very  false,  has  also  this  other  fault,  that,  by 
excluding  every  verification  of  what  the  church,  which 
considers  itself  infallible,  preaches,  it  opens  an  unlimited 
field  for  all  kinds  of  most  confused  fancies,  which  are 
given  out  as  the  truth.  When  senseless  and  fantastic 
assertions  are  given  out  as  the  truth,  there  naturally 
appear  men  who  protest  against  such  assertions.  But  uo 
compel  people  to  beheve  in  senseless  and  fantastic  asser- 
tions, there  exists  but  one  means,  —  violence. 

The  whole  Nicene  symbol  is  a  concatenation  of  sense- 
less and  fantastic  assertions,  which  could  have  arisen 
only  among  men  who  recognized  themselves  as  in- 
fallible, and  could  have  been  disseminated  only  through 
violence. 

Before  all  time  God  the  Father  begot  God  the  Son, 
from  whom  everything  began.  This  Son  was  sent  into 
the  world  to  save  men  and  there  was  born  anew  of  a 
virgin,  and  was  crucified,  and  rose  from  the  dead,  and 
ascended  into  heaven,  where  he  sits  on  the  right  side  of 
the  Father.  At  the  end  of  the  world  this  Son  will  come 
to  judge  the  living  and  the  dead,  —  and  all  that  is  an 
indubitable  truth,  revealed  by  God  Himself. 

If  we  are  unable  in  the  twentieth  century  to  accept  all 
these  dogmas,  which  are  contrary  to  common  sense  and 


306  ON   RELIGIOUS   TOLERATION 

to  human  knowledge,  people  were  not  deprived  of  common 
stinse  even  at  the  time  of  the  Nicene  Council  and  could 
not  have  been  able  to  accept  all  these  strange  dogmas,  and 
expressed  their  dissent  from  them. 

But  the  church,  regarding  itself  as  alone  in  possession 
of  the  full  truth,  could  not  admit  this  and  used  the  most 
effective  means  against  this  dissent  and  its  dissemina- 
tion, —  violence. 

The  church,  united  with  the  temporal  power,  has  always 
made  use  of  violence,  —  latent  violence,  —  but  none  the 
less  definite  and  effective ;  it  collected  taxes  from  every- 
body by  force,  without  inquiring  after  their  agreement  or 
disagreement  with  the  state  rehgion,  and  demanded  of 
them  the  profession  of  that  religion. 

Having  collected  the  money  by  violence,  it  in  this 
manner  established  the  most  powerful  hypnotization  for 
the  strengthening  of  its  own  faith  among  children  and 
adults.  If  this  means  was  not  sufficient,  it  simply  em- 
ployed the  violence  of  the  temporal  power.  Thus  there 
can  be  no  such  thing  as  religious  toleration  in  the  church, 
which  is  supported  by  the  state.  And  this  cannot  be 
otherwise,  so  long  as  the  churches  are  churches. 

It  will  be  said :  the  churches,  like  those  of  the  Quakers, 
Wesleyans,  Shakers,  Mormons,  and,  especially  now,  the 
Catholic  congregations,  collect  money  from  their  mem- 
bers without  the  exertion  of  force,  and  so  do  not  exert 
violence  in  supporting  themselves.  But  that  is  not  true : 
the  money  which  has  been  collected  by  rich  men,  espe- 
cially the  Catholic  congregations,  during  centuries  of 
hypnotization  by  means  of  money,  is  not  a  free  contribu- 
tion by  the  members  of  the  church,  but  the  result  of  the 
grossest  violence.  Money  is  collected  by  means  of  vio- 
lence and  is  always  an  instrument  of  violence.  For  the' 
church  to  be  able  to  consider  itself  tolerant,  it  must  be 
free  from  all  monetary  influences.  "  You  have  received 
it  gratis  —  give  it  gratis." 


ON    RELIGIOUS    TOLERATION  307 


In  reality  the  church  has  no  instruments  of  violence. 
If  violence  is  exerted,  it  is  not  exerted  by  the  church 
itself,  but  by  the  temporal  power  with  which  it  is  con- 
nected, and  so  there  appears  the  question :  why  do  the 
government  and  the  ruling  classes  unite  with  the  church 
and  support  it  ?  It  would  seem  that  the  beliefs  preached 
by  the  church  ought  to  be  a  matter  of  indifference  to  the 
governments  and  the  ruhng  classes.  It  would  seem  that 
it  ought  to  be  a  matter  of  absolute  indifference  to  the 
governments  and  the  ruling  classes  what  the  nations 
governed  by  them  believe  in,  —  whether  they  are  Protes- 
tants, Cathohcs,  Orthodox,  or  Mohammedans.  But  that 
is  not  so. 

At  any  time  the  religious  beliefs  correspond  to  the 
social  structure,  that  is,  the  social  structure  arranges  itself 
in  accordance  with  the  religious  beliefs.  And  thus,  as 
the  religious  beliefs  of  the  nation  are,  so  is  also  the  social 
structure.  The  governments  and  the  ruling  classes  know 
that,  and,  therefore,  they  always  support  the  rehgious 
teaching  which  corresponds  to  their  advantageous  position. 
The  governments  and  the  ruling  classes  know  that  the 
true  Christian  religion  denies  the  power  which  is  based 
on  violence,  the  distinction  of  classes,  the  accumulation 
of  wealth,  punishments,  wars,  —  everything  in  conse- 
quence of  which  the  government  and  the  ruling  classes 
occupy  their  advantageous  position,  and  so  they  consider 
it  necessary  to  support  the  faith  which  justifies  their 
position.  This  is  done  by  the  church-corrupted  Chris- 
tianity, in  that,  by  having  distorted  the  true  Christianity, 
it  conceals  the  access  to  it  from  people. 

The  governments  and  the  ruling  classes  could  not  exist 
without  this  corruption  of  Christianity,  which  is  called 
the  church  faith.  The  church  with  its  lie  could  not  exist 
without  any  direct  or  indirect  violence  of  the  governments 


308  ON    RELIGIOUS    TOLERATION" 

or  of  the  ruling  classes.  In  some  states  this  violence 
finds  its  expression  in  persecutions ;  in  others,  in  the 
exclusive  protection  granted  to  the  wealthy  classes,  which 
are  in  possession  of  the  wealth.  But  the  possession  of 
wealth  is  conditioned  by  violence.  Therefore,  the  church, 
the  government,  and  the  ruhng  classes  mutually  support 
one  another.  Thus  the  opponents  of  religious  toleration 
are  quite  right  when  they  defend,  on  the  part  of  the 
church,  the  right  of  violence  and  persecutions  on  which 
its  existence  is  based.  The  advocates  of  religious  tolera- 
tion would  be  right  only  in  case  they  did  not  turn  to  the 
church,  but  to  the  state,  and  in  case  they  demanded  what 
is  incorrectly  called  the  "  separation  of  church  and  state," 
but  what  in  reality  is  only  the  cessation  of  the  govern- 
ment's exclusive  support  by  the  direct  means  of  violence, 
or  by  the  indirect  means,  —  the  subsidizing  of  some  one 
faith. 

But  to  demand  of  the  church  that  it  should  refrain 
from  violence  in  any  shape  whatever  is  the  same  as  to 
demand  of  a  man  who  is  besieged  on  all  sides  that  he 
shall  lay  down  his  arms  and  surrender  himself  to  the 
enemy. 

Tolerant  can  be  only  the  true,  free  Christianity,  which 
is  not  connected  with  any  worldly  institutions,  and  so 
is  afraid  of  nothing  and  of  no  one,  and  has  for  its  aim 
a  greater  and  ever  greater  recognition  of  the  divine  truth 
and  a  greater  and  ever  greater  realization  of  the  same  in 
life. 


LETTERS     ON    AND    TO    THE 
DUKHOBORS 

1895-  1900 


LETTERS    ON    AND    TO    THE 
DUKHOBORS 


PEESECUTION   OF   CHRISTIANS   IN   RUSSIA 

IN    1895 

LETTER    TO    THE    EDITOR    OF    AN    ENGLISH    NEWSPAPER 

Dear  Sir  :  —  I  send  you  for  publication  in  your  news- 
paper a  memorandum  about  the  persecutions  to  which  the 
Dukhobors,  sectarians  of  the  Caucasus,  were  subjected 
this  summer.  There  is  only  one  way  of  helping  the  per- 
secuted, but  especially  the  persecutors,  who  do  not  know 
what  they  do,  and  that  is,  publicity,  the  presentation  of 
the  matter  to  the  judgment  of  public  opinion,  which, 
by  expressing  its  disapproval  of  the  persecutors  and  its 
sympathy  with  the  persecuted,  will  keep  the  first  from 
committing  acts  of  cruelty,  which  frequently  are  only  the 
result  of  their  crass  ignorance,  and  will  sustain  courage  in 
the  second  and  will  give  them  consolations  in  their  suffer- 
ings. 

In  Russia  this  article  will  not  be  passed  by  the  censor, 
and  so  I  turn  to  you,  asking  you  to  publish  it  in  your 
paper.  This  memorandum  was  composed  by  a  friend  of 
mine,  who  travelled  to  the  spot,  to  collect  exact  informa- 
tion in  regard  to  the  occurrences,  and  so  the  information 
given  may  be  depended  upon. 


312  PERSECUTION    OF    DUKHOBORS 

The  fact  that  the  iuformation  given  in  this  article  was 
received  only  from  one  side,  the  persecuted,  while  the 
other  side,  that  of  the  persecutors,  was  not  asked,  does  not 
diminish  the  reliability  of  the  information.  The  perse- 
cuted had  no  reason  to  conceal  what  they  were  doing : 
they  proclaimed  it  to  the  whole  world ;  but  the  perse- 
cutors cannot  help  but  be  ashamed  of  the  measures  which 
they  employed  against  the  persecuted,  and  so  they  will 
do  everything  in  their  power  to  conceal  their  acts.  But 
if  in  the  accounts  of  the  Dukhobors  there  might  have 
lieeu  any  exaggerations,  we  have  carefully  excluded  every- 
thing which  appeared  so  to  us. 

What  is  reliable  and  undoubted  in  this  memorandum 
is  the  essential  part,  namely,  that  the  Dukhobors  have  in 
various  places  been  subjected  to  repeated  tortures,  that 
the  majority  of  them  are  shut  up  in  prisons,  and  that 
more  than  450  families  are  completely  ruined  and  driven 
out  of  their  homes,  only  because  they  would  not  act  con- 
trary to  their  religious  convictions. 

All  this  is  unquestionably  reliable,  because  it  was 
printed  in  many  Eussian  newspapers  and  did  not  provoke 
any  denial  on  the  part  of  the  government. 

The  ideas  evoked  in  me  by  these  events  I  have  expressed 
separately,  and,  if  you  want  them,  I  will  send  them  to  you 
to  be  printed  after  this  memorandum  has  appeared. 

EPILOGUE    TO    THE    MEMORANDUM 

In  the  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation :  but  be  of  good 
cheer  ;  I  have  overcome  the  world  (John  xvi.  33). 

The  Dukhobors  settled  in  the  Caucasus  have  been  sub- 
jected to  cruel  persecutions  by  the  Eussian  authorities; 
and  these  persecutions,  as  described  in  a  note  written  by 
a  man  who  went  to  the  spot,  have  been  continued  until 
the  present  time. 

The  Dukhobors  have  been  beaten,  flogged,  and  trampled 


PERSECUTION    OF    DUKHOBORS  313 

underfoot  by  horses ;  the  Cossacks  were  quartered  upon 
the  Dukhobor  settlements,  and  with  permission  of  the 
authorities  they  permitted  themselves  all  kinds  of  acts  of 
violence  against  the  inhabitants ;  those  who  refused  to  do 
military  service  were  tortured  physically  and  morally,  and 
prosperous  settlers,  who  by  the  labour  of  decades  had 
established  their  prosperity,  were  driven  from  their  homes 
and  settled  without  allotment  of  land  and  without  means 
of  subsistence  in  Georgian  villages. 

The  cause  of  these  persecutions  is  this,  that  through 
various  causes  three-fourths  of  all  the  Dukhobors,  namely, 
about  fifteen  thousand  men  (there  are  twenty  thousand  of 
them),  of  late  returned  with  new  vigour  and  conscious 
effort  to  their  former  Christian  beliefs  and  this  summer 
decided  to  carry  out  Christ's  law  of  not  resisting  evil  with 
violence.  This  decision  on  the  one  hand  caused  them  to 
destroy  their  weapons,  which  in  the  Caucasus  are  consid- 
ered to  be  such  a  necessity,  and  thus,  by  renouncing  every 
possibility  of  resisting  by  means  of  violence,  to  give  them- 
selves into  the  power  of  every  violator ;  on  the  other  hand 
it  led  them  under  no  condition  to  take  part  in  any  acts  of 
violence,  as  demanded  of  them  by  the  government,  con- 
sequently also  in  no  military  or  other  service,  which  would 
demand  the  employment  of  violence.  The  government 
could  not  admit  such  a  departure  of  tens  of  thousands 
from  the  demands  established  by  law,  and  a  struggle 
ensued.  Their  government  demands  the  fulfilment  of  its 
demands.     The  Dukhobors  do  not  submit. 

The  government  cannot  yield.  Not  only  has  such  a 
refusal  of  the  Dukhobors  to  fulfil  the  demands  of  the 
government  no  legal  foundation,  from  the  worldly  point 
of  view,  and  is  contrary  to  all  the  existing  and  time- 
honoured  order,  but  it  is  also  impossible  to  admit  these 
refusals,  if  for  no  other  reason,  because,  if  they  be  ad- 
mitted in  the  case  of  ten,  there  will  to-morrow  be  one 
thousand,    one    hundred    thousand,   who   will    similarly 


314  PERSECUTION    OF    DUKHOBORS 

refuse  to  bear  the  burdens  of  taxes  and  service.  Admit 
this,  and,  instead  of  order  and  protection  of  Hfe,  there  will 
ensue  arbitrary  rule  and  chaos,  and  nobody's  property  and 
life  will  be  protected.  Thus  the  governmental  persons 
must  reason,  and  they  cannot  reason  otherwise,  and  are 
not  at  all  to  blame  for  reasoning  thus.  Aside  from  any 
egotistical  concern  that  such  refusals  must  deprive  him 
of  his  means  of  existence,  which  are  collected  from  the 
masses  by  force,  aside  from  every  egotistical  concern  about 
himself,  every  man  connected  with  the  government,  from 
the  Tsar  down  to  the  rural  chief,  must  to  the  bottom  of 
his  heart  be  provoked  by  the  refusal  of  some  uncultured, 
semi-illiterate  people  to  fulfil  the  demands  of  the  govern- 
ment, which  are  obligatory  for  all  men.  "  By  what  right," 
he  thinks,  "  do  these  insignificant  people  allow  themselves 
to  deny  what  is  recognized  by  all,  is  sanctified  by  law,  and 
is  done  everywhere?"  And,  indeed,  the  governmental 
persons  cannot  be  blamed  for  acting  as  they  do.  They 
employ  violence,  rude  violence,  but  they  cannot  do  other- 
wise. Indeed,  is  it  possible  by  means  of  rational,  humane 
means  to  compel  people  who  profess  the  Ciiristian  faith 
to  enter  into  the  class  of  men  who  teach  murder  and  pre- 
pare themselves  for  it  ?  It  is  possible  to  sustain  the 
deceived  people  in  the  deception  by  means  of  every  kind 
of  stultification,  oaths,  theological,  philosophical,  and  ju- 
ridical sophisms,  but  the  moment  the  deception  is  in  some 
way  destroyed,  and  people,  like  the  Dukhobors,  calling 
things  by  their  name,  say,  "  We  are  Christians  and  so  can- 
not kill,"  the  lie  is  revealed,  and  it  becomes  impossible  to 
convince  such  people  by  means  of  rational  proofs.  The 
only  possibility  of  compelling  such  people  to  obey  con- 
sists in  blows,  executions,  confiscation  of  the  home,  and 
hunger  and  cold  for  the  members  of  their  families.  And 
this  they  do.  So  long  as  the  men  of  the  government  have 
not  come  to  see  their  delusion,  they  can  do  notliing  else 
and  so  are  not  to  blame.     Still  less  are  to  blame  the 


PERSECUTION   OF    DUKHOBORS  315 

Christians  who  refuse  to  take  part  in  the  study  of  murder 
and  to  enter  into  a  class  of  men  who  are  educated  to  kill 
all  those  whom  the  government  commands  them  to  kill. 
They,  too,  cannot  act  otherwise,  A  so-called  Christian, 
who  is  baptized  and  brought  up  in  Orthodoxy,  Catholi- 
cism, or  Protestantism,  can  continue  to  serve  violence 
and  murder,  so  long  as  he  does  not  understand  the  decep- 
tion to  which  he  was  subjected.  But  the  moment  he 
comes  to  understand  that  every  man  is  responsible  to  God 
for  his  acts,  and  that  this  responsibihty  cannot  be  shifted, 
nor  be  removed  from  him  by  an  oath,  and  that  he  must 
not  kill  nor  prepare  himself  for  murder,  his  participation 
in  the  army  becomes  morally  as  impossible  as  it  is  physi- 
cally impossible  for  him  to  lift  a  weight  of  one  hundred 
puds. 

In  this  does  the  terrible  tragedy  of  the  relation  of 
Christianity  to  the  government  consist.  The  tragedy  is 
this,  that  the  governments  have  to  rule  over  Christian 
nations,  which  are  not  yet  entirely  enlightened,  but  are 
becoming  from  day  to  day  more  enlightened  by  Christ's 
teaching.  All  the  governments  since  the  time  of  Cou- 
stantine  have  known  and  felt  this,  and  have  for  their  self- 
preservation  instinctively  done  everything  they  could,  in 
order  to  shroud  the  true  meaning  of  Christianity  and 
crush  its  spirit.  They  have  known  that  if  this  spirit  is 
acquired  by  men,  violence  will  come  to  an  end  and  gov- 
ernment will  naturally  destroy  itself,  and  so  the  govern- 
ments have  done  their  work,  building  up  the  governmental 
establishments,  heaping  laws  and  institutions  one  upon 
another,  and  hoping  to  bury  underneath  it  the  un- 
dying spirit  of  Christ,  which  is  implanted  in  the  hearts  of 
men. 

The  governments  have  done  their  work,  but  the  Chris- 
tian teaching  has  at  the  same  time  done  its  work,  pene- 
trating deeper  and  deeper  into  the  hearts  of  men.  And 
the  time  came  when   the  Christian   cause,  as  it   ought, 


316  PEESECUTION    OF    DUKHOBORS 

because  the  Christian  cause  is  God's  cause,  while  the 
government's  cause  is  man's  cause,  got  ahead  of  the  gov- 
ernment's cause. 

And  as  in  the  burning  of  a  pyre  there  comes  a  time 
when  the  fire,  after  it  has  worked  within  for  a  long  time 
and  only  by  an  occasional  burst  of  fire  and  smoke  has 
indicated  its  presence,  finally  bursts  forth  on  all  sides,  and 
it  becomes  impossible  to  stop  the  burning,  even  so  in  the 
-struggle  of  the  Christian  spirit  with  the  pagan  laws  and 
institutions  there  comes  a  time  when  this  Christian  spirit 
bursts  forth  everywhere,  can  no  longer  be  subdued,  and 
every  moment  threatens  destruction  to  those  institutions 
which  were  heaped  upon  it. 

Indeed,  what  can  and  must  the  government  do  in 
respect  to  these  fifteen  thousand  Dukhobors,  who  refuse 
to  do  military  service  ?  What  is  to  be  done  with  them  ? 
They  cannot  be  left  as  they  are.  ,  Even  with  the  present 
state  of  affairs  in  the  beginning  of  the  motion,  there  have 
appeared  Orthodox  people  who  have  followed  the  example 
set  by  the  Dukhobors.  What  will  happen  later  ?  What 
will  happen  later,  if  the  same  shall  be  done  by  the 
Milkers,  Stundists,  Lashers,  Wanderers,  who  look  upon 
the  government  and  the  military  service  in  just  the  same 
way,  but  have  not  done  like  the  Dukhobors,  only  because 
they  could  not  make  up  their  minds  to  be  the  first,  and 
were  afraid  of  suffering  ?  And  there  are  millions  of  such 
people,  not  in  Eussia  alone,  but  in  all  Christian  countries, 
and  not  only  in  Christian  countries,  but  also  in  Mussul- 
man countries,  in  Persia  and  Turkey  and  Arabia,  people 
like  the  Harijites  and  Babists.  It  is  necessary  for  the 
sake  of  others  to  make  harmless  tens  of  thousands  of  men 
who  do  not  recognize  governments  and  do  not  wish  to 
take  part  in  them.  How  is  this  to  be  done  ?  It  is 
impossible  to  kill  them :  there  are  too  many  of  them. 
It  is  awkward  to  put  them  all  in  prison.  All  that  can  be 
done  is  to  ruin  and  torment  them;    and  it  is  this  that 


PERSECUTION    OF    DUKHOBORS  317 

is  done  with  them.  But  what  if  these  torments  shall  not 
have  the  desired  effect,  and  they  shall  continue  to  profass 
the  truth  and  so  shall  attract  a  still  greater  number  of 
men  to  follow  their  example  ? 

The  position  of  the  governments  is  terrible,  terrible  for 
this  very  reason,  that  they  have  nothing  to  fall  back  upon. 
It  is  certainly  impossible  to  recognize  as  bad  the  acts 
of  men  like  Drdzhzhin,  who  was  tortured  to  death  in  a 
prison,  or  like  Izyumch^nko,  who  is  even  now  pining 
away  in  Siberia,  or  like  Doctor  Shkarvan,  who  is  sen- 
tenced to  imprisonment  in  Austria,  or  like  all  those  who 
are  now  in  prison,  prepared  for  suffering  and  for  death,  if 
only  they  do  not  have  to  depart  from  their  very  simple,  all- 
comprehensible,  universally  approved  religious  convictions, 
which  prohibit  murder  and  participation  in  it.  By  no 
intricacy  of  thought  is  it  possible  to  call  the  acts  of  these 
men  bad  or  unchristian,  and  it  is  not  only  impossible  not 
to  approve  of  them,  but  even  not  to  be  delighted  with 
them,  because  it  is  impossible  not  to  recognize  that  the 
men  who  act  in  this  manner  act  so  in  the  name  of 
the  very  highest  qualities  of  the  human  soul,  without 
the  recognition  of  whose  height  human  life  falls  down 
to  the  level  of  animal  existence.  If  the  government  shall 
not  persecute  men  who,  like  the  Dukhobors,  Stundists, 
Nazarenes,  and  separate  individuals,  refuse  to  take  part  in 
the  acts  of  the  government,  the  advantage  of  the  Chris- 
tian peaceable  manner  of  life  will  attract  to  itseK  not 
only  sincerely  convinced  Christians,  but  also  such  as  will 
put  on  the  mask  of  Christianity  for  the  sake  of  their 
advantage,  and  so  the  number  of  men  who  do  not  fulfil 
the  demands  of  the  government  will  grow  larger  and 
larger.  But  if  the  government  is  cruel,  as  it  now  is,  to 
such  men,  this  cruelty  itself  toward  men  who  are  guilty 
of  nothing  but  leading  a  more  moral  and  a  better  life 
than  others,  and  want  in  practice  to  fulfil  the  law  of 
the  good,  as  professed  by  all  men,  will  more  and  more 


318  PERSECUTION    OF    DUKHOBORS 

repel  people  from  the  government.  And  very  soon  the 
governments  will  not  find  any  people  who  are  ready  to 
support  them  by  means  of  violence.  The  semisavage 
Cossacks,  who  beat  the  Dukhobors  by  order  of  the  author- 
ities, very  soon  "  began  to  pine,"  as  they  expressed  them- 
selves, when  they  were  quartered  in  the  Dukhobor 
settlements,  that  is,  their  consciences  began  to  trouble 
them,  and  the  authorities,  fearing  the  harmful  influence 
of  the  Dukhobors  upon  them,  hastened  to  take  them 
away  from  there. 

Not  one  persecution  of  innocent  people  ends  other- 
wise than  by  men's  passing  over  from  among  the  perse- 
cutors to  the  convictions  of  the  persecuted,  as  was  the 
case  with  the  warrior  Simon,  who  destroyed  the  Pauli- 
cians  and  then  passed  over  to  their  'faith.  The  more 
lenient  the  government  shall  be  to  the  people  who  pro- 
fess Christianity,  the  more  quickly  will  the  number  of 
the  true  Christians  be  increased.  The  more  cruel  the 
government  shall  be,  the  more  quickly  will  the  number 
of  people  who  serve  the  government  be  diminished. 
Thus,  whether  the  government  treats  people,  who  in  their 
life  profess  Christianity,  with  leniency  or  cruelty,- it  will 
itself  in  every  way  contribute  to  its  own  destruction. 
•'  Now  is  the  judgment  of  this  world :  now  shall  the 
prince  of  the  world  be  cast  out"  (John  xii.  31).  This 
judgment  was  achieved  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  that 
is,  when  in  the  place  of  the  truth  of  external  justice  was 
put  the  truth  of  love.  No  matter  how  much  brush  is 
thrown  on  a  burning  pile,  for  the  purpose  of  putting  out 
the  fire,  —  the  undying  fire,  the  fire  of  truth,  will  be 
choked  for  a  little  while  only,  but  will  be  fanned  more 
than  before  and  will  burn  everything  which  is  put  on  it. 

Even  if  it  should  happen  that  a  few  champions  of 
truth,  as  has  always  happened,  should  weaken  in  their 
struggle  and  fulfil  the  government's  demands,  this  would 
not  change  the  situation  one  hair's  breadth.      Let  the 


PEKSECUTIOX    OF    DUKnOBORS  319 

Dukhobors  of  the  Caucasus  surrender,  succumbing  to 
the  sufferings  to  which  their  grandparents,  wives,  and 
children  are  subjected,  there  will  to-morrow  arise  new 
champions,  who  will  be  prepared  on  all  sides  and  will 
more  and  more  boldly  put  forth  their  demands  and 
will  less  and  less  be  able  to  surrender.  The  truth  can- 
not stop  being  the  truth,  because  under  the  pressure  of 
sufferings  people  who  bear  testimony  to  it  grow  faint. 
The  divine  must  vanquish  the  human. 

"  But  what  will  happen  if  the  government  is  des- 
troyed ? "  I  hear  the  question,  which  is  always  put  by 
the  advocates  of  power,  on  the  assumption  that  if  there 
shall  not  be  what  now  is,  there  will  be  nothing,  and 
everything  will  perish.  The  answer  to  this  question  is 
always  one  and  the  same.  There  will  be  what  must  be, 
what  pleases  God,  what  is  in  agreement  with  His  law, 
as  implanted  in  our  hearts  and  revealed  to  our  reason.  If 
the  government  should  be  destroyed  because  we,  as  the 
revolutionists  did,  should  destroy  it,  then  it  would  be 
natural  for  the  question  as  to  what  would  happen  after 
the  government  is  destroyed  to  demand  an  answer  from 
those  who  destroy  the  government.  But  the  destruction 
of  the  government  which  is  taking  place  now  is  not  taking 
place  because  some  one,  some  people,  want  deliberately 
to  destroy  it :  it  is  being  destroyed,  because  it  is  not 
in  harmony  with  the  will  of  God,  which  was  revealed  to 
our  reason  and  implanted  in  our  hearts.  A  man  who 
refuses  to  put  his  brothers  into  prisons  and  to  kill  them 
has  no  intention  of  destroying  the  government ;  he  merely 
does  not  want  to  do  what  is  contrary  to  the  will  of  God, 
what  not  only  he,  but  even  all  men  who  have  come 
out  of  the  beastly  state,  recognize  as  an  unquestion- 
able evil.  If  by  this  the  government  is  destroyed,  it 
means  only  that  the  government  demands  what  is  con- 
trary to  God's  will,  that  is,  evil,  and  that,  therefore,  the 
government    is    an   evil   and    must   be    destroyed.      The 


320  PERSECUTION    OF    DUKIIOBORS 

change  which  in  our  time  is  taking  place  in  the  social 
life  of  the  nations,  though  we  cannot  entirely  imagine  the 
form  which  it  will  assume,  cannot  be  bad,  because  this 
change  takes  place  and  will  take  place,  not  by  the  arbi- 
trary will  of  men,  but  by  an  internal  demand,  common  to 
all  men,  of  the  divine  principle  which  is  implanted  in  the 
hearts  of  men.  When  childbirth  takes  place,  all  our 
activity  should  be  directed,  not  to  counteracting  it,  but 
to  aiding  it.  But  this  aid  is  not  attained  by  a  depar- 
ture from  the  divine  truth  revealed  to  us,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  by  a  public  and  fearless  profession  of  it.  Such 
a  profession  of  the  truth  gives,  not  only  full  satisfaction 
to  those  who  profess  the  truth,  but  also  the  greatest  good 
to  men,  both  to  the  violated  and  the  violators.  Salvation 
is  not  behind,  but  before  us. 

The  moment  of  the  crisis  in  the  change  of  the  social 
form  of  life  and  of  the  substitution  for  the  violence-using 
government  of  anotlier  force  which  shall  bind  men  to- 
gether has  already  come.  And  the  way  out  of  it  is 
no  longer  in  the  arrest  of  the  process  or  in  the  reverse 
motion,  but  only  in  the  forward  movement  along  the 
path  which  in  the  hearts  of  men  is  pointed  out  to.  them 
by  Christ's  law. 

One  more  little  effort,  and  the  Galilean  will  conquer,  — 
not  in  that  terrible  sense  in  which  the  pagan  king  ascribed 
victory  to  Him,  but  in  the  true  sense,  in  which  He  said  of 
Himself  that  He  had  overcome  the  world.  "  In  the  world  ye 
shall  have  tribulation  :  but  be  of  good  cheer ;  I  have  over- 
come the  world  "  (John  xvi.  33)  ;  for  He  has,  indeed,  over- 
come the  world,  not  in  the  mystical  sense  of  an  invisible 
victory  over  sin,  but  in  the  simple,  clear,  and  comprehen- 
sible sense  that,  if  we  shall  only  be  of  good  cheer  and  shall 
boldly  profess  Him,  there  will  very  soon  not  only  be  an 
end  to  all  those  terrible  persecutions  which  are  committed 
against  all  the  true  disciples  of  Christ  who  profess  His 
teaching  in  fact,  but  there  will  also  be  an  end  to  pris- 


PERSECUTION    OF    DUKHOBORS  321 

ons,  gallows,  wars,  debauchery,  luxury,  idleness,  poverty 
crushed  by  labour,  under  which  Christian  humanity  now 
groans. 

September  19,  1895. 


TWO    LETTERS    TO    THE    LEADER    OF    THE 
DUKHOBOES,   P.  V.  VEEIGIN 


Dear  Brother  :  —  L  M.  Tregiibov  sent  me  your  letter 
to  him,  and  I  read  it  with  pleasure ;  I  was  happy  to 
learn  something  about  you,  and  I,  so  to  speak,  heard  your 
voice  and  understood  what  you  are  thinking  about,  how 
you  think,  and  what  you  live  by.  I  see  from  your  letter 
that  you  live  in  a  spiritual  world  and  are  busy  with  spir- 
itual questions.  For  the  good  of  men  that  is  most  impor- 
tant, because  only  in  the  spirit  is  man  free,  and  only  by 
means  of  the  spirit  is  God's  work  done,  and  only  in  the 
spirit  does  man  feel  himself  to  be  in  union  with  God, 
since  "  God  is  spirit."  The  ideas  expressed  by  you  in  the 
letter  as  to  the  superiority  of  a  living  communion  to 
the  dead  book  have  pleased  me  very  much,  and  I  share 
them  with  you.  I  write  books,  and  so  I  know  all  the 
harm  which  they  produce ;  I  know  how  people,  who  do 
not  wish  to  accept  the  truth,  know  how  not  to  read  or 
understand  what  goes  against  the  grain  and  arraigns 
them,  how  they  misiuterpret  and  distort,  how  they  have 
misinterpreted  the  Gospel.  I  know  all  that,  but  still  I 
consider  books  to  be  inevitable  in  our  time.  I  say  "  in 
our  time,"  in  distinction  from  the  evangelical  times  when 
there  was  no  printing,  when  there  were  no  books,  and 
there  existed  only  an  oral  means  for  the  diffusion  of  ideas. 
It  was  then  possible  to  get  along  without  a  book,  because 
even  the  enemies  of  truth  did  not  have  any  book  ;  but 
now  it  is  not  right  to  leave  this  powerful  instrument  for 

322 


LETTERS    TO    P.    Y.    YERIGIN  323 

deception  to  the  enemies  alone,  and  not  to  make  use 
of  it  for  the  sake  of  truth.  Not  to  make  use  of  books  or  of 
writing  for  the  transmission  of  our  thoughts  or  for  the  ac- 
quisition of  other  people's  thoughts  is  the  same  as  not  to 
make  use  of  the  force  of  our  voice  for  imparting  at  once 
to  several  people  what  we  have  to  say,  or  not  to  make 
use  of  our  hearing  to  understand  what  another  person 
is  saying  aloud,  and  to  recognize  the  possibility  of  the 
transmission  and  acquisition  of  thought  only  in  private 
or  in  a  whisper. 

Writing  and  printing  have  only  increased  a  thousand 
times,  a  hundred  thousand  times,  the  number  of  men  who 
may  hear  him  who  expresses  his  thoughts,  but  the  rela- 
tion between  the  exponent  and  the  recipient  remains  the 
same :  it  is  with  print  as  with  an  oral  conversation,  in 
which  the  hearer  may  grasp  and  understand  what  is  beiug 
told  him,  or  may  just  as  well  pay  no  heed  to  it ;  a  hearer 
may  do  with  his  ears  what  a  reader  does  with  a  book, 
when  he  misinterprets  it  completely ;  just  as  we  see  them 
write  in  books  much  that  is  useless  and  trifling,  so  it  is 
also  with  speaking.  There  is  some  difference,  but  the  dif- 
ference is  sometimes  in  favour  of  oral,  and  sometimes  of 
printed  intercourse.  The  advantage  of  an  oral  transmis- 
sion is  this,  that  the  hearer  feels  the  soul  of  the  speaker ; 
but  there  is  also  a  disadvantage  connected  with  it,  which 
is,  that  very  frequently  empty  talkers,  such  as  lawyers, 
who  are  endowed  witli  the  gift  of  speech,  carry  away 
people,  not  by  the  reasonableness  of  their  argument,  but 
by  the  mastery  of  their  oratorical  art,  which  is  not  the 
case  with  books ;  another  advantage  of  the  oral  trans- 
mission is  this,  that  he  who  does  not  understand  may  ask 
a  question,  but  the  disadvantage  is  this,  that  those  who 
do  not  understand,  who  frequently  do  not  understand  on 
purpose,  may  ask  something  irrelevant  and  thus  interrupt 
the  train  of  thought,  which  also  is  not  the  case  with 
books. 


324  LETTERS    TO    P.    V.    VEILIGIN 

The  disadvantages  of  books  are  these,  that,  in  the  first 
place,  paper  is  very  patient,  and  it  is  possible  to  express 
nonsense,  which  costs  euornious  labour  on  the  part  of  those 
who  make  the  paper  and  set  up  tlie  type,  which  cannot 
be  done  in  the  oral  transmission,  because  nobody  is  going 
to  listen  to  nonsense ;  in  the  second  place,  books  grow  in 
enormous  numbers,  while  good  ones  are  lost  in  a  sea  of 
stupid,  empty,  and  harmful  books.     But  the  advantages 
of  printing  are  also  very  great,  consisting  mainly  in  this, 
that  the  circle  of  hearers  is  increased  a  hundredfold  and  a 
thousandfold,  as  compared  with  the  hearers  of  an  oral  dis- 
course.   And  this  increase  in  the  number  of  hearers  is  im- 
portant, not  because  there  are  many  of  them,  but  because 
amidst  millions  of  people  of  various  nations  and  positions, 
to  whom  the  book  is  accessible,  there  will  naturally  be 
segregated  some  who  share  the  same  ideas,  and,  thanks  to 
the  book,  though  tens  of  thousands  of  versts  apart  and 
not  acquainted  with  one  another,  they  are  united  and  live 
as  one  soul  and  receive  spiritual  joy  and  a  lively  con- 
sciousness that  they  are  not  alone.    It  is  such  communion 
that  I  now  hold  with  you  and  with  many,  very  many 
people  of  other  nations,  who  have  never  seen  me,  but  who 
are  nearer  to  me  than  my  own  carnal  sons  and  brothers. 
But  the  chief  consideration  in  favour  of  the  book  is  this, 
that  with  a  certain  degree  of  the  development  of  the  ex- 
ternal conditions  of  life,  books,  printing  in  general,  have 
become  a  means  for  people's  intercommunication,  and  so 
this  means  cannot  be  neglected.     So  many  harmful  books 
have  been  written  and  disseminated  that  this  harm  can  be 
counteracted  only  by  means  of  books.     One  wedge  drives 
out  another.     Christ  has  said,  "  What  ye  hear  in  the  ear, 
that  preach  ye  upon  the  housetops."     The  printed  word  is 
this  same  proclamation  from  the  housetops.     The  printed 
word  is  the  same  tongue,  only  it  reaches  very  far,  and  so 
everything  which  is  said  of  the  tongue  refers  also  to  the 
printed  word :  with  it  wc  bless  God,  and  with  it  we  curse 


LETTERS    TO    P.    Y.    VERi'gIN  325 

men,  who  are  created  in  the  image  of  God ;  and  so  we 
cannot  be  sufficiently  attentive  to  what  we  say  and  hear, 
as  also  to  what  we  print  and  read.  I  write  all  this,  not 
because  I  think  that  you  think  differently  (I  see  from 
your  letter  that  you  understand  it  in  the  same  way),  but 
because  these  thoughts  occurred  to  me  and  I  wanted  to 
share  them  with  you.  I  read  with  especial  pleasure  what 
you  say  about  this,  that,  "  if  we  preserved  everything 
already  given  us  from  above,  we  should  be  completely 
happy ;  what  is  indispensable  and  legitimate  must  by 
all  means  be  in  every  one  and  is  received  directly  from 
above  or  from  within."  That  is  quite  true,  and  I  myself 
understand  man  in  the  same  way.  Every  man  would  un- 
questionably know  the  whole  divine  truth,  everything 
which  he  ought  to  know,  in  order  to  fulfil  in  this  life 
what  God  wants  of  him,  if  only  this  truth,  as  revealed  to 
man,  were  not  dimmed  by  false  human  interpretations. 
And  so,  to  learn  the  divine  truth,  a  man  must  fiist  of  all 
reject  all  the  false  interpretations  and  all  the  worldly 
temptations,  which  lead  him  to  the  acceptance  of  these 
interpretations,  and  then  there  will  be  left  the  one  truth, 
which  is  accessible  to  babes,  because  it  is  proper  for  the 
human  soul.  But  the  chief  difficulty  lies  in  this,  that,  in 
rejecting  the  lie,  we  are  likely  to  reject  with  it  a  part  of 
the  trutb,  and  that,  in  elucidating  the  truth,  we  are  likely 
to  introduce  new  errors. 

I  thank  you,  dear  brother,  for  the  greeting  which  you 
sent  me.  Write  me  to  Moscow,  if  nothing  interferes. 
.  Can  I  not  do  something  for  you  ?  You  will  make  me 
happy  by  giving  me  some  commission. 

I  embrace  you  in  brotherly  love. 

November  21, 1895. 


Dear  Friend  :  —  T  received  your  letter  yesterday,  and 
I  hasten  to  answer  you.     It  takes  a  long  time  for  our 


326  LETTEKS    TO    P.   Y.    VERlGIN 

letters  to  reach  one  another,  and  I  have  not  much  time 
left  to  live. 

In  your  argument  against  books  there  is  much  justice 
and  cleverness,  —  the  comparison  with  the  assistant  and 
the  surgeon,  —  hut  they  are  none  of  them  well  grounded, 
mainly  because  you  compare  books  with  the  living  inter- 
course, as  though  books  excluded  the  living  intercourse. 
In  reality  one  does  not  exclude  the  other,  and  one  helps 
the  other. 

To  tell  you  the  truth,  your  stubborn  opposition  to  books 
looks  to  me  like  an  exclusive  sectarian  method  of  defence 
of  an  opinion,  as  once  accepted  and  expressed.  Such  an 
exclusiveness  does  not  harmonize  with  that  idea  which  I 
have  formed  of  your  intellect  and,  above  all,  of  your  open- 
ness and  sincerity.  God  leads  men  toward  Himself  and 
toward  the  fulfilment  of  His  will  by  all  kinds  of  paths,  — 
by  a  conscious  one,  when  men  try  to  do  His  will,  and  by 
an  unconscious  one,  when  they  do,  as  they  think,  their 
own  will. 

To  do  God's  will,  to  fulfil  His  kingdom  upon  earth,  we 
need  the  union  of  men  among  themselves,  we  need  that 
all  men  should  be  one,  as  Christ  recognized  Himself  one 
with  the  Father.  For  this  union  there  are  needed  an 
internal  means,  —  the  cognition  and  clear  expression  of 
the  truth,  such  as  was  given  by  Christ  and  as  unites 
all  men,  and  an  external  means,  —  the  dissemination  of 
this  expression  of  the  truth,  which  is  accomplished  in  the 
most  varied  ways :  by  commerce,  by  conquests,  by  travel, 
by  books,  by  railways,  by  telegraphs,  and  by  many  other 
means,  some  of  which,  hke  conquest,  I  must  reject,  but 
others,  like  books  and  rapid  means  of  communication,  I 
have  no  reason  to  reject  and  cannot  help  using,  if  I  do 
not  wish  to  deprive  myself  of  a  convenient  instrument  for 
serving  God.  But  as  to  the  retort,  that  for  books  and 
for  the  railways  it  is  necessary  to  crawl  underground  for 
the  ore  and  into  a  smelting  furnace,  that  is  also   true 


LETTEKS    TO    P.    V.    VEMGIN  327 

in  the  case  of  the  ploughshare,  the  spade,  the  scythe. 
And  theu,  there  is  nothing  wrong  in  having  to  crawl 
underground  for  the  ore  or  to  work  in  a  smelting  furnace, 
and  when  I  was  a  young  man  I,  like  any  good  young 
man,  would  have  gladly  crawled  underground  to  work 
in  iron,  just  for  the  sake  of  bravado,  so  long  as  that  w^ould 
not  have  been  compulsory  and  would  not  have  lasted  a 
whole  life,  and  w'ould  have  been  surrounded  by  all  kinds 
of  conveniences,  wliich  men  will  certainly  invent  some 
day,  when  all  shall  w^ork,  and  not  merely  some  hired 
people. 

Well,  we  will  not  speak  any  more  of  it ;  but  believe 
me,  that,  if  I  write  to  you  what  I  do,  I  do  not  do  so 
because  I  have  written  a  lot  of  books  and  still  continue 
to  write  them,  —  I  with  my  whole  heart  agree  with  you 
that  the  simplest,  best  life  is  more  precious  than  the  most 
beautiful  books,  —  and  not  even  because  thanks  to  books 
I  enter  into'  communion  with  people :  this  autumn  I  en- 
tered into  communion  with  a  Hindoo,  who  fully  shares  our 
Christian  views  and  who  sent  me  an  English  book  by  a 
countryman  of  his,  in  which  there  is  an  exposition  of  the 
teaching  of  the  Brahmins  that  coincides  with  the  essence 
of  Christ's  teaching,  and  I  entered  into  communion  with 
some  Japanese,  two  of  whom  visited  me  the  other  day,  and 
who  profess  and  preach  a  purely  Christian  morahty.  It 
is  not  this  that  urges  me  to  disagree  with  you  and  not 
to  reject  printing,  any  more  than  railways,  telephones, 
and  similar  things,  but  this,  that,  when  I  see  an  ant-hill 
in  the  meadow,  I  cannot  admit  that  the  ants  must  be  in 
error,  when  they  raise  that  hill  and  do  everything  they 
do  in  it.  Similarly,  as  I  look  at  everything  which  men 
have  done  in  a  material  way,  I  cannot  admit  that  they 
have  done  it  all  by  mistake.  As  a  man  (and  not  an  ant), 
I  see  defects  in  the  human  hill  and  cannot  help  wishing 
to  correct  them,  —  in  this  does  my  share  in  the  common 
work  consist,  —  I  do  not  wish  to  destroy  the  whole  hill 


328  LETTERS    TO    P.    V.    VERIGIN 

of  human  labour,  but  only  more  correctly  to  distribute 
what  is  placed  irregularly  in  it.  There  is  very  much 
that  is  irregularly  distributed  in  the  human  hill,  and  it 
is  about  this  that  I  have  written  and  write,  have  suf- 
fered and  suffer,  and  try  to  change  to  the  best  of  my 
strength. 

What  is  irregular  in  our  life  is,  in  the  first  place  and 
above  all  else,  this,  that  the  means  is  taken  for  the  end, 
that  what  ought  to  be  the  end  —  the  good  of  our  neigh- 
bour —  is  made  a  means,  that  is,  that  man's  good,  his 
very  life,  is  sacrificed  for  the  production  of  an  instrument, 
which  is  at  times  needed  for  all  men,  and  at  times  only 
for  the  whim  of  one  person,  as  is  the  case  when  human 
lives  are  ruined  in  the  production  of  articles  which  are 
needed  only  by  a  few  and  which  often  are  not  needed  by 
any  one  and  are  even  harmful.  What  is  irregular  is  this, 
that  men  forget  or  do  not  know  that  not  only  for  the 
production  of  a  mirror,  but  even  of  the  most  important 
and  necessary  articles,  —  as  of  a  ploughshare,  a  scythe,  — 
there  should  not  only  no  life  be  ruined,  but  even  the 
happiness  of  ever  so  insignificant  a  man  should  not  be 
impaired,  because  the  meaning  of  human  life  is  only  in 
the  good  of  all  men.  To  violate  the  life  and  the  good 
of  any  one  man  for  the  good  of  men  is  the  same  as  to 
cut  off  an  animal's  limb  for  its  good. 

In  this  does  the  terrible  mistake  of  our  time  consist; 
not  in  this,  that  we  have  printing,  railways,  and  such 
things,  but  in  this,  that  men  consider  it  allowable  to 
sacrifice  the  good  of  even  one  man  for  the  performance 
of  any  work.  As  soon  as  men  lost  the  meaning  and  the 
purpose  of  what  they  are  doing  (there  is  but  one  end, — 
the  good  of  our  neighbour),  the  moment  they  decided 
that  we  could  sacrifice  the  hfe  and  the  good  of  an  old 
man  or  even  an  idiot,  who  is  living  as  a  burden  to  all 
people,  it  became  possible  to  sacrifice  even  a  less  old  and 
stupid  person,  and  there  is  no  limit,  —  we  may  sacrifice 


LETTERS    TO    P.    V.    YERIGIN  329 

everybody  for  a  cause.    That  is  irregular,  and  against  that 
we  must  struggle. 

Men  must  come  to  understand  that,  no  matter  how 
useful  and  important  the  printing  of  books,  the  railways, 
a  plough,  a  scythe,  may  seem  to  us,  we  do  not  need  them, 
and  must  let  them  go  to  perdition,  until  we  have  learned 
to  make  them  without  ruining  the  happiness  and  lives  of 
men.  In  this  does  the  whole  question  consist,  and  people 
blunder  in  this  question,  going  about  it  now  from  one 
side,  and  now  from  another.  Some  say :  "  You  want  to 
destroy  everything  that  humanity  has  acquired  with 
so  much  labour,  —  you  want  to  return  to  barbarism,  in 
the  name  of  some  moral  demands.  The  moral  demands 
are  irregular,  if  they  are  contrary  to  the  well-being  which 
humanity  attains  by  its  progress."  Others  say :  "  I  am 
afraid  that  you  are  of  that  opinion  and  ascribe  that  opinion 
to  me,  —  that,  since  all  the  material  perfections  of  life  are 
contrary  to  the  moral  demands,  all  these  perfections  are 
false  in  themselves  and  must  be  abandoned."  To  the  first 
objectors  I  reply  that  there  is  nothing  to  destroy,  and  that 
we  must  only  not  forget  that  the  aim  of  the  life  of 
humanity  is  the  good  of  all  men,  and  that,  therefore,  the 
moment  any  improvement  deprives  even  one  person  of 
the  good,  this  improvement  must  be  given  up  and  must 
not  be  used,  until  a  means  is  found  for  producing  and 
using  it  in  such  a  way  that  the  good  of  not  even  one  man 
is  impaired.  I  think  that  with  such  a  view  of  life  many 
aimless  and  harmful  productions  will  be  discontinued,  and 
for  the  useful  ones  very  soon  means  will  be  found  for 
producing  them,  without  impairing  the  good  of  men.  To 
the  second  class  of  objectors  I  reply  that  humanity,  in 
passing  from  the  stone  age  to  the  bronze  and  iron  age, 
and  then  reaching  the  present  material  condition,  could 
by  no  means  have  erred,  but  followed  the  invariable  law 
of  perfection,  and  that  it  is  not  only  not  desirable  to  turn 
back,  but  that  it  is  even  impossible  to  do  so,  as  it  is 


330  LETTERS    TO    P.    Y.    VERiOIN 

impossible  again  to  become  an  ape,  and  that,  indeed,  the 
problem  of  the  man  of  our  time  does  not  at  aU  consist  in 
dreaming  of  what  men  used  to  be  and  how  they  could 
again  become  such  as  they  were,  but  in  serving  the  good 
of  the  men  now  living.  But  for  the  good  of  the  men  now 
living  it  is  necessary  for  people  not  to  torment  or  oppress 
others,  not  to  deprive  them  of  the  products  of  their 
labour,  not  to  compel  them  to  work  at  things  that  are 
useless  for  them  or  that  they  cannot  make  use  of,  and, 
above  all,  not  to  consider  it  possible  or  lawful,  in  the  name 
of  any  cause  or  material  success,  to  impair  the  life  and 
the  good  of  a  neighbour  or,  what  is  the  same  from  another 
side,  —  not  to  violate  love. 

If  men  only  knew  that  the  end  of  humanity  is  not 
material  progress,  that  this  progress  is  an  inevitable 
growth,  while  the  one  end  is  the  good  of  all  men,  that 
this  end  is  higher  than  any  material  purpose  which  men 
may  set  for  themselves,  everything  would  occupy  its 
proper  place.  It  is  to  this  that  the  men  of  our  time  must 
direct  all  their  efforts. 

To  lament  the  fact  that  men  cannot  now  live'  without 
implements,  like  the  beasts  of  the  forest,  living  on  nothing 
but  fruits,  is  the  same  as  though  I,  an  old  man,  should 
lament  because  I  have  no  teeth,  nor  black  hairs,  nor  that 
strength  which  I  had  in  my  youth.  What  I  must  do  is 
not  to  put  in  false  teeth  nor  dye  my  hair  nor  take  gym- 
nastic exercises,  but  to  try  to  live  as  becomes  an  old  man, 
putting  in  the  first  place,  not  worldly  matters,  but  God's 
work,  —  union  and  love,  and  admitting  worldly  matters 
only  to  the  extent  to  which  they  do  not  interfere  with 
God's  work.  It  is  this  that  humanity,  too,  ought  to  do  at 
the  present  period  of  life. 

But  to  say  that  the  railways,  gas,  electricity,  the  print- 
ing of  books,  are  injurious,  because  through  them  human 
lives  are  lost,  is  the  same  as  though  we  should  say  that  it 
is  injurious  to  plough  and  sow,  only  because  I  did  not 


LETTERS    TO    P.    T.    VERIGIN  331 

plough  the  field  iu  time  and  allowed  it  to  be  overgrown 
and  then  sowed  it  in  and  ploughed  it  up,  that  is,  because 
I  did  first  what  ought  to  have  been  done  last. 

I  was  very  glad  to  hear  what  you  write  about  your  life 
and  how  you  apply  to  life  what  you  preach  and  under 
these  hard  conditions,  in  which  you  are,  earn  a  livelihood 
by  labour.  In  nothing  else  is  the  sincerity  of  man  rec- 
ognized so  much  as  in  this.  I  have  become  very  bad  in 
this  respect :  I  am  very  much  surrounded  by  all  kinds  of 
luxury,  which  I  despise  and  from  which  I  have  not  the 
strength  to  get  away.  Therefore  your  example  supports 
me  and  I  continue  to  try. 

Thank  you  for  the  excerpts  from  the  diary.  In  respect 
to  your  ideas,  as  expressed  there,  I  should  hke  to  exchange 
with  you  my  views  in  the  same  direction.  I  will  do  so 
another  time. 

Meanwhile  good-bye.  Please,  do  not  allow  an  unkind 
feeling  to  rise  against  me  for  my  objections  to  your  ideas, 
which  you  express  not  only  in  your  letter  to  me,  but  also 
in  your  letter  to  Ev.  Iv.  You  are  very  dear  to  me,  and  I 
try  to  be  as  open,  as  brotherly,  to  you  as  I  can. 

Your  loving  Lev  Tolstoy. 

Octoler  14,  1896. 


NOBEL'S   BEQUEST 

I  READ  in  some  Swedish  papers  that  by  Nobel's  will  a 
certain  sum  of  money  is  bequeathed  to  him  who  shall 
most  serve  the  cause  of  peace. 

I  assume  that  the  men  who  served  the  cause  of  peace 
did  so  only  because  they  served  God  ;  and  every  monetary 
reward  can  only  be  disagreeable  to  them,  in  that  it  gives  a 
selfish  character  to  their  service  of  God.  For  this  reason 
it  would  seem  that  this  condition  of  Nobel's  will  can 
hardly  be  executed  correctly.  Indeed,  it  cannot  be  cor- 
rectly executed  in  relation  to  the  men  themselves  who 
have  all  the  time  served  the  cause  of  peace ;  but,  I 
presume,  it  will  be  quite  correctly  executed,  if  the  money 
shall  be  distributed  among  the  families  of  those  men  who 
have  served  the  cause  of  peace  and  in  consequence  of -this 
service  are  in  a  most  difficult  and  wretched  condition.  I 
am  speaking  of  the  families  of  the  Dukhobors  of  the 
Caucasus,  who,  to  the  number  of  four  thousand  people, 
have  been  suffering  these  three  years  from  the  Eussian 
government's  severe  treatment  of  them,  because  their 
husbands,  sons,  and  fathers  refuse  to  do  active  or  reserve 
military  service. 

Thirty-two  of  those  who  have  refused  have,  after  hav- 
ing stayed  in  the  disciplinary  battalion,  where  two  of  them 
died,  been  sent  to  the  worst  parts  of  Siberia,  and  about 
three  hundred  men  are  pining  away  in  the  prisons  of  the 
Caucasus  and  of  Eussia. 

The  incompatibility  of  military  service  with  the  profes- 
sion of  Christianity  has  always  been  clear  for  all  true  Chris- 

332 


nobel's  bequest  333 

tians,  and  has  many  times  been  expressed  by  them ;  but 
the  church  sophists,  who  are  in  the  service  of  the  author- 
ities, have  always  known  how  to  drown  these  voices,  so 
that  simple  people  have  not  seen  this  incompatibility  and, 
continuing  to  call  themselves  Christians,  have  entered 
military  service  and  have  obeyed  the  authorities,  which 
practised  them  in  acts  of  murder,  but  the  contradiction 
between  the  profession  of  Christianity  and  the  participa- 
tion in  military  matters  has  become  more  obvious  with 
every  day,  and  finally,  in  our  day,  when,  on  the  one  hand, 
the  amicable  communion  and  unity  of  the  Christian 
nations  is  growing  more  and  more  intimate  and,  on  the 
other,  these  same  nations  are  more  and  more  burdened 
with  terrible  armaments  for  mutally  hostile  purposes,  it 
has  reached  the  utmost  degree  of  tension.  Everybody 
speaks  of  peace,  and  peace  is  preached  by  the  preachers 
and  pastors  in  their  churches,  by  the  peace  societies  in 
their  gatherings,  by  writers  in  newspapers  and  books,  by 
representatives  of  the  government  —  in  their  speeches, 
toasts,  and  all  kinds  of  demonstrations.  Everybody 
speaks  and  writes  about  peace,  but  nobody  believes  in  it 
and  nobody  can  believe  in  it,  because  these  same  preachers 
and  pastors,  who  to-day  preach  against  war,  to-morrow 
bless  the  flags  and  cannon  and,  extolling  the  commanders, 
welcome  their  armies  ;  the  members  of  the  peace  societies, 
their  orators  and  writers  against  war,  as  soon  as  their  turns 
come,  calmly  enter  the  military  caste  and  prepare  them- 
selves for  murder ;  the  emperors  and  kings,  who  yesterday 
solemnly  assured  all  men  that  they  are  concerned  only 
about  peace,  the  next  day  exercise  their  troops  for  murder 
and  lioast  to  one  another  of  their  well-prepared  multitudes 
armed  for  murder,  and  so  the  voices,  raised  amidst  this 
universal  lie,  by  men  who  actually  want  peace,  and  show 
not  only  in  words,  but  also  in  their  acts,  that  they  really 
want  it,  cannot  help  but  be  heard.  These  people  say: 
"  We  are  Christians,  and  so  we  cannot  agree  to  being  mur- 


334  NOBEL'S    BEQUEST 

derers.  You  may  kill  and  torture  us,  but  we  will  still 
refuse  to  be  murderers,  because  that  is  contrary  to  that 
same  Christianity  which  you  profess." 

These  words  are  very  simple  and  so  little  new  that  it 
seems  strange  to  repeat  them,  and  yet  these  words,  enun- 
ciated in  our  time  and  under  those  conditions  in  which 
the  Dukhobors  are,  have  a  great  significance.  These  words 
again  point  out  to  the  world  that  simple,  indubitable,  and 
only  means  for  the  establishment  of  actual  peace  which 
was  long  ago  pointed  out  by  Christ,  but  which  has  been 
so  forgotten  by  men  that  they  on  all  sides  search  for 
means  for  the  establishment  of  peace,  and  have  no  re- 
course to  the  one,  long  familiar  method,  which  is  so 
simple  that  for  its  application  nothing  new  has  to  be 
undertaken,  but  we  need  only  stop  doing  what  we  always 
and  for  everybody  consider  to  be  bad  and  disgraceful, — 
if  we  stop  being  submissive  slaves  of  those  who  prepare 
men  for  murder.  Not  only  is  this  method  simple,  —  it  is 
also  indubitable.  Any  other  method  for  the  establish- 
ment of  peace  may  be  doubtful,  Imt  not  this  one,  with 
which  men  who  profess  Christianity  recognize,  what  no 
one  has  ever  doubted,  that  a  Christian  cannot  be  a  uiur- 
derer.  And  Christians  need  oaly  recognize  what  they 
cannot  help  recognizing,  and  there  will  be  eternal  invio- 
lable peace  among  all  Christians.  Not  only  is  the  method 
simple  and  indubitable,  —  it  is  also  the  only  method  for 
the  establishment  of  peace  among  Christians.  It  is  the 
only  one,  because,  so  long  as  Christians  will  recognize 
the  possibility  of  their  taking  part  in  military  service,  so 
long  will  the  armies  be  in  the  power  of  the  governments ; 
and  so  long  as  they  shall  be  in  the  power  of  the  govern- 
ments, there  will  be  wars.  I  know  that  this  method  was 
employed  long  ago :  it  was  employed  by  the  ancient 
Christians,  who  were  for  this  executed  by  the  Eomans, 
and  by  the  Paulicians,  Bogomils,  Quakers,  Mennonites, 
and  Nazarenes ;    but  never  before  was  this  method  em- 


nobel's  bequest  335 

ployed  so  frequently,  and,  above  all  else,  so  consciously, 
as  now  in  Austria,  in  Prussia,  in  Switzerland,  in  Holland, 
where  even  the  pastors  preach  in  the  churches  the  refusal 
to  do  military  service,  and  in  Russia,  where,  for  the 
period  of  three  years,  in  spite  of  all  its  cunning,  trickery, 
and  cruelty,  the  government  has  been  unable  to  break  the 
determination  of  a  small  number  of  men  who  are  living  a 
Christian  life. 

To  say  that  this  method  is  ineffective,  because,  in  spite 
of  its  having  been  long  in  use,  the  wars  have  existed  at 
the  same  time,  is  the  same  as  saying  that  in  the  sprmg 
the  action  of  the  sun  is  ineffective,  because  not  all  the 
earth  has  thawed  and  the  flowers  have  not  yet  bloomed. 

It  is  true  that  in  Austria  Xazarenes  sit  in  prisons,  that 
separate  individuals  who  have  refused  to  do  mihtary  serv- 
ice are  being  tortured  to  death  in  disciplinary  battalions, 
and  that  these  same  Dukhobors  are  locked  up  in  jails, 
while  their  families  die  from  want  in  places  of  deporta- 
tion, and  that  the  triumph  seems  to  be  on  the  side  of 
violence  But  just  as  in  the  spring,  when  the  earth  has 
not  yet  thawed  out  and  the  flowers  have  not  yet  bloomed, 
it  is  possible  to  see  on  whose  side  the  victory  is,  so  it  is 
here. 

The  Dukhobors  look  upon  their  ruin,  their  want,  im- 
prisonment, and  deportations  as  the  work  of  serving  God, 
and  do  this  service  with  pride  and  joy,  conceahng  nothing 
and  fearing  nothing,  because  nothing  worse  can  be  done 
to  them  unless  they  be  put  to  death,  which  they  do  not 
fear. 

But  not  such  is  the  condition  of  the  Russian  govern- 
ment. If  we,  who  are  deceived  by  the  government,  do 
not  see  the  whole  significance  of  what  the  Dukhobors  are 
doing,  the  government  does  see  it ;  it  not  only  sees  the 
danger,  but  also  the  hopelessness  of  its  position.  It  sees 
that  as  soon  as  people  shall  be  freed  from  that  spell  under 
which  they  are  now,  and  shall  understand  that  a  Chris- 


336  nobel's  bequest 

tian  cannot  be  a  soldier,  —  and  this  they  cannot  help  but 
understand,  —  and  as  soon  as  they  hear  what  the  Dukho- 
bors  did,  the  government  will  have  inevitably  to  renounce, 
either  Christianity,  —  and  the  governments  rule  in  the 
name  of  Christianity,  —  or  its  power.  The  government 
is  in  relation  to  the  Dukhobors  in  a  desperate  state.  They 
cannot  be  left  alone,  for  all  the  rest  will  do  likewise ;  nor 
is  it  possible  to  destroy  them,  to  lock  them  up  for  ever, 
as  is  done  with  individuals  who  interfere  with  the  gov- 
ernment—  there  are  too  many  of  them:  the  old  men, 
wives,  children,  not  only  do  not  dissuade  their  fathers 
and  husbands,  but  encourage  them  in  their  determination. 
What  is  to  be  done  ? 

And  so  the  government  tries  secretly,  murderously,  to 
destroy  these  men  and  to  make  them  harmless,  by  keep- 
ing the  men  in  solitary  confinement,  with  the  greatest 
secrecy,  forbidding  outsiders  to  commune  with  them,  and 
by  sending  them  to  the  most  remote  regions  of  Siberia, 
among  the  Yakuts ;  their  famihes  it  deports  among  the 
Tartars  and  Georgians :  it  does  not  admit  any  one  to 
them  and  forbids  the  printing  of  any  information  about 
the  Dukhobors,  and  commands  its  accomplices  to  print 
all  kinds  of  calumnies  against  them.  But  all  these 
methods  are  inefficient.  The  light  shineth  in  the  dark. 
It  is  impossible  at  once  to  wipe  off  from  the  face  of  the 
earth  a  population  of  four  thousand  people  who  command 
the  respect  of  all  men ;  if  they  shall  die  out  under  the 
conditions  in  which  they  are  placed;  this  extinction  is 
slow,  and  extinction  for  the  profession  of  the  truth  amidst 
other  people  is  a  most  powerful  sermon,  and  this  sermon 
is  being  carried  farther  and  farther.  The  government 
knows  this  and  yet  cannot  help  doing  what  it  is  doing ; 
but  we  can  already  see  on  whose  side  is  the  victory. 

It  is  this  pointing  out  of  the  weakness  of  violence  and 
of  the  power  of  truth  which  is  in  our  time  the  great  desert 
of  the  Dukhobors  in  the  matter  of  the  establishment  of 


nobel's  bequest  337 

peace.  For  this  reason  I  think  that  no  one  has  more 
than  they  served  the  cause  of  peace,  and  the  unfortunate 
conditions  under  which  their  families  are  living  (the  de- 
tails of  which  may  be  learned  from  an  article  printed  in 
Humanitas)  are  the  reason  why  the  money  which  Nobel 
wished  should  be  given  to  those  who  more  than  any  one 
else  served  the  cause  of  peace  could  not  be  adjudged  to 
any  one  with  greater  justice  than  to  these  very  Dukhobor 
families. 

This  ought  to  be  done,  and  be  done  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sil)le,  because  the  wan*  of  the  Dukhobor  famihes  is  grow- 
ing and  growing,  and  in  winter  will  have  reached  its 
utmost  limits.  If  this  money  should  be  adjudged  to  the 
Dukhobors,  it  can  be  sent  directly  to  Tiflia  or  to  those 
persons  who  will  be  named  by  me. 

Ydsnaya  Polydna,  August  29,  1897. 


AN  APPEAL  m  BEHALF  OF  THE  DUKHOBOES 

A  POPULATION  of  twelve  thousand  men,  the  Christians 
of  the  Universal  Brotherhood,  as  the  Uukhobors  now  liv- 
ing in  the  Caucasus  call  themselves,  are  at  the  present 
time  in  a  terrible  plight. 

Without  entering  into  discussions  as  to  who  is  right, 
whether  the  governments,  which  recognize  the  compati- 
bility of  Christianity  with  prisons,  executions,  and,  above 
all,  wars  and  preparations  for  them,  or  the  Dukhobors, 
who  recognize  the  obligatoriness  for  themselves  of  the 
Christian  law,  which  denies  every  violence,  and,  more- 
over, every  murder,  and  so  refuse  to  do  military  service, — 
we  cannot  help  but  see  that  this  contradiction  is  very 
hard  to  solve :  no  government  can  permit  people  to  shirk 
duties  which  are  fulfilled  by  everybody  and  thus  to  under- 
mine the  foundations  of  the  state,  while  the  Dukhobors, 
on  their  side,  cannot  reject  a  law  which  they  consider 
divine  and,  therefore,  obligatory  in  their  lives. 

So  far  the  governments  have  found  a  way  out  from  this 
contradiction,  either  by  making  those  who  from  rehgious 
conviction  refuse  to  do  military  service  do  harder  duties 
than  those  of  military  service,  but  such  as  are  not  opposed 
to  their  religious  convictions,  as  has  been  done  in  Eiissia 
in  relation  to  the  Mennonites  (they  are  made  to  pass  the 
time  of  military  service  in  some  work  for  the  Crown) ; 
or,  not  recognizing  the  legality  of  the  religious  refusal,  by 
punishing  those  who  do  not  fulfil  the  Common  law  of  the 
state  with  imprisonment  for  the  period  of  their  service,  as 
is  being  done  with  the  Nazarenes  in  Austria.     But  the 

338 


APPEAL    IN    BEHALF    OF    THE    DUKHOBORS    339 

present  Russian  government  has  used  against  the  Dukho- 
bors  a  third  way  out  from  this  contradiction,  which,  it 
would  seem,  is  no  longer  used  in  our  time.  It  not  only 
subjects  the  refusers  to  the  most  painful  sufferings,  but 
systematically  causes  also  pain  to  the  fathers,  mothers, 
and  children  of  those  who  refuse,  in  all  probaljility  inteud- 
incf  with  the  tortures  of  these  innocent  families  to  shake 
the  determination  of  their  recalcitrant  members.  To  say 
nothing  of  the  floggings,  incarcerations,  and  all  kinds  of 
tortures,  to  which  the  Dukhobors  have  been  subjected  in 
the  disciplinary  battahons,  from  which  many  have  died, 
and  of  their  deportation  to  the  Worst  places  in  Siberia; 
to  say  nothing  of  two  hundred  reservists,  who  for  the 
period  of  two  years  pined  away  in  prisons  and  now  are 
separated  from  their  famihes  and  are  sent  away  in  pairs 
to  the  wildest  parts  of  the  Caucasus,  where,  earning  no 
livelihood,  they  literally  starve  to  death,  —  to  say  nothing 
of  these  punishments  meted  out  to  those  who  are  directly 
guilty  of  refusals  to  do  military  service,  the  families  of  the 
Dukhobors  are  systematically  ruined  and  destroyed.  They 
are  all  deprived  of  the  right  to  absent  themselves  from 
their  places  of  abode,  and  are  specially  fined  and  locked 
up  in  prisons  for  the  non-fulfilment  of  the  strangest 
demands  of  the  authorities,  —  for  not  calling  themselves 
by  the  names  they  are  commanded  to  give  themselves,  for 
going  to  the  mill,  for  visiting  one's  own  mother,  for  going 
from  the  village  to  the  wood,  to  collect  fuel,  —  so  that 
the  last  means  of  the  once  wealthy  inhabitants  are  soon 
exhausted ;  and  the  four  hundred  families,  who  were  de- 
ported from  their  homes  and  were  settled  in  Tartar  and 
in  Georgian  villages,  where  they  have  to  hire  themselves 
houses  and  support  themselves  by  their  own  money,  hav- 
ing no  land  and  no  income,  are  in  such  hard  straits  that 
in  the  course  of  the  three  years  of  their  deportation  one- 
fourth  of  them,  especially  their  old  men  and  children,  have 
died  from  want  and  from  diseases. 


340  APPEAL  IN  BEHALF  OF  THE  DUKHOBORS 

It  is  hard  to  believe  that  such  a  systematic  annihilation 
of  a  whole  population  of  twelve  thousand  people  should 
enter  into  the  plans  of  the  Russian  government.  It  is 
very  hkely  that  the  higher  authorities  do  not  know  what 
is  going  on  in  reality,  or,  if  they  guess  it,  do  not  wish  to 
know  the  details,  feeling  that  they  cannot  admit  the  con- 
tinuation of  such  acts,  while  that  is  being  done  which  they 
want  to  be  done. 

But  it  is  incontestable  that  in  the  course  of  the  last 
three  years  the  authorities  in  .the  Caucasus  have  not  only 
tormented  those  who  refused,  but  also  their  families,  and 
just  as  systematically  hiave  ruined  all  the  Dukhobors  and 
have  starved  to  death  those  who  have  been  deported. 

All  the  interest  in  the  Dukhobors  and  every  aid  sent 
to  them  have  only  brought  about  the  expulsion  from 
Russia  of  those  who  have  attempted  to  help  the  Dukho- 
bors. The  government  of  the  Caucasus  has  surrounded 
the  whole  recalcitrant  population  with  a  magic  circle,  and 
this  population  is  slowly  dying  out.  Three  or  four  years 
more,  and  nothing  will  be  left  of  these  Dukhobors. 

Thus  it  would  be,  if  there  had  not  happened  an  event 
which  evidently  was  not  foreseen  by  the  authorities  in  the 
Caucasus.  This  event  was  this,  that  last  year  the  dowager 
empress  visited  her  son  in  the  Caucasus,  when  the  Dukho- 
bors succeeded  in  handing  her  a  petition,  in  which  they 
asked  to  be  permitted  to  emigrate  in  a  body  to  some  dis- 
tant places,  and  if  that  could  not  be,  to  emigrate  abroad. 
The  empress  transmitted  the  petition  to  the  highest 
authorities,  and  the  highest  authorities  found  it  possible 
to  permit  the  Dukhobors  to  leave  Russia. 

It  would  seem  that  the  question  was  solved  and  that 
a  way  out  was  found  from  a  situation  which  was  oppress- 
ive for  both  sides.     But  that  only  seemed  so. 

In  the  situation  in  which  the  Dukhobors  now  are,  emi- 
gration is  impossible  for  them :  they  have  no  means  for 
this,  and,  being  shut  up  in  their  places  of  deportation,  they 


APPEAL   IN    BEHALF    OF    THE    DUKHOBORS    341 

are  unable  to  attend  to  this  matter.  They  were  wealthy, 
but  in  the  last  years  the  greater  part  of  their  means  has 
been  taken  from  them  by  the  courts  and  penalties  and 
has  been  used  up  in  the  support  of  their  deported  brothers, 
and  they  have  no  way  of  discussing  matters  in  com- 
mon and  settling  upon  the  conditions  of  their  emigration, 
since  they  are  not  allowed  to  leave  their  places  of  abode 
and  no  one  is  allowed  to  visit  them. 

The  people  are  allowed  to  leave,  but  they  have  been 
previously  ruined,  so  that  they  have  no  means  for  their 
journey,  and  the  conditions  under  which  they  live  are 
such  that  they  are  unable  to  find  out  anything  about 
places  to  emigrate  to,  and  how  and  under  what  conditions 
they  can  do  so,  and  they  are  even  unable  to  make  use  of 
outside  help,  since  the  men  who  want  to  help  them  are 
immediately  expelled,  while  they  are  for  every  absence 
put  in  prison. 

Thus,  if  these  men  shall  receive  no  aid  from  without, 
they  will  be  completely  ruined  and  will  all  die  out,  in 
spite  of  the  permission  to  emigrate. 

I  accidentally  know  the  details  of  the  persecutions  and 
sufferings  of  these  people  and  am  in  communication  with 
them,  and  they  ask  me  to  help  them,  and  so  I  consider  it 
my  duty  to  address  all  good  people,  both  of  Russian  and 
of  European  society,  asking  them  to  help  the  Dukhobors 
to  get  out  of  that  painful  situation  in  which  they  now 
are.  I  have  addressed  an  appeal  to  Eussian  society 
through  a  Russian  newspaper,  —  I  do  not  know  yet 
whether  my  appeal  will  be  printed  or  not,  and  I  now 
address  all  the  good  people  of  the  Enghsh  and  American 
nations,  asking  their  aid,  in  the  first  place,  in  money,  of 
which  a  great  deal  is  needed  for  the  transportation  of  ten 
thousand  people  for  a  long  distance,  and,  in  the  second, 
by  a  direct  guidance  in  the  difficulties  of  the  present  emi- 
gration of  people  who  do  not  know  any  languages  and  have 
never  been  outside  of  Russia. 


342  APPEAL  IN  BEHALF  OF  THE  DUKHOBORS 

I  assume  that  the  highest  Eussian  authorities  will  not 
interfere  with  such  aid  and  will  temper  the  zeal  of  the 
government  in  the  Caucasus,  which  now  allows  no  commu- 
nication with  the  Dukhobors. 

Until  then  I  otfer  my  mediation  between  the  people 
who  wish  to  aid  the  Dukhobors  and  enter  into  relations 
with  them,  since  my  relations  with  them  have  so  far  never 
been  interrupted. 

My  address :  2 1  Khamovnicheski  Lane,  Moscow. 

March  19,  1898. 


LETTEKS   TO   THE   DUKHOBOES 

I.    TO    THE    DUKHOBORS    OF    THE    CAUCASUS 

Dear  Brothers,  who  suffer  for  Christ's  teachmg :  — 
Our  brother,  I.  P.  N.,  called  on  me,  ou  his  way  home, 
and  I  wanted  to  wTite  to  you  that  not  I  alone,  but  many, 
very  many  people  in  Eussia  and  abroad  know  and  think 
of  you  and  are  concerned  about  you.  God  willing,  we 
will  send  you,  your  children,  women,  old  men,  and  patients, 
such  help  as  we  can ;  but  as  to  spiritual  help,  we  and 
many  others,  both  here  and  abroad,  receive  that  from  you, 
and  we  beg  you  not  to  forsake  us  with  that  help.  This 
help  consists  in  this,  that  you  were  the  first  to  show  an 
example  of  walking  on  Christ's  road :  it  is  easier  for  those 
in  the  rear  than  for  those  in  the  van.  Christ  said,  "  They 
have  persecuted  me,  and  they  will  persecute  you,"  and  so 
it  is.  I  am  sorry  for  the  young  and  the  old,  and  still 
more  sorry  for  the  persecutors:  they  know  by  this  time 
that  they  are  not  persecuting  you,  but  Christ,  the  one  who 
came  to  save  them.  They  see  their  sin,  but  are  so  deeply 
mired  in  it  that  they  cannot  get  away  from  it.  They  do 
their  evil  work :  God  help  them  to  come  to  their  senses 
and  to  join  us.  I.  P.  told  me  how  your  brothers  who 
suffer  for  their  refusal  to  take  part  in  the  deeds  of  the 
devil,  in  murder,  have  acted  toward  those  who  have  not 
withstood  the  persecutions  and  have  consented  to  serve. 
If  those  who  themselves  suffer  for  Christ's  sake  begged 
forgiveness  of  those  who  did  not  withstand  the  persecu- 
tions for  those  sufferings  which  they  bore  at  the  instiga- 
tion and  instruction  of  their  brothers,  how  must  I,  who 

343 


344  LETTERS    TO    THE    DUKHOBOES 

have  not  been  made  worthy  to  suffer  for  Christ's  sake,  ask 
the  forgiveness  of  those  to  whom  my  words  and  writings 
have  caused  anv  suffering ! 

He  who  suffers  for  Christ's  sake,  not  at  the  instigation 
of  men,  but  because  he  cannot  act  differently  before  God, 
is  in  no  need  of  human  consolations  and  encouragements ; 
but  he  who  acts,  not  for  God's  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of 
human  glory,  has  a  hard  time  and  needs  consolation  and 
support,  and  his  forgiveness  has  to  be  asked,  if  he  suffers 
through  us.  And  so,  brothers,  do  not  persist  in  your 
refusal  to  do  service  for  the  state,  if  you  do  so  in  order 
not  to  be  accused  of  weakness.  If  you  can  do  what  is 
demanded  of  you,  do  it,  —  save  thus  your  feeble,  your 
wives  and  children,  your  sick,  your  old  men,  from  suffer- 
ings. If  Christ's  spirit  has  not  taken  His  abode  in  man, 
keeping  him  from  doing  what  is  contrary  to  God's  will, 
every  one  of  you  ought,  for  the  sake  of  the  love  of  his 
own  people,  to  renounce  what  he  did  before  and  submit : 
no  one  will  condemn  you  for  it.  Thus  you  ought  to  act, 
if  you  can.  But  if  Christ's  spirit  has  taken  His  abode  in 
a  man,  and  he  does  not  live  for  himself,  but  for  the  fulfil- 
ment of  God's  will,  he  would  gladly  do  all  he  can  for  his 
suffering  relatives,  but  he  cannot  do  so,  just  as  one  man 
cannot  lift  forty  hundredweights  ;  and  if  this  is  so,  Christ's 
spirit,  which  is  opposed  to  the  works  of  the  devil,  will 
teach  him  how  to  act,  and  will  console  him  in  his  own 
sufferings  and  in  those  of  his  relatives. 

I  should  like  to  tell  you  much  and  to  find  out  much 
from  you.  If  God  wills  it,  we  shall  see  each  other.  Mean- 
while good-bye,  brothers.     I  kiss  you. 

Your  weak,  but  loving  brother. 

1897. 

II.    TO    THE    DUKHOBOES    IN    CANADA 

Dear  Brothers  :  —  I  send  you  the  money  collected.  I 
think  that  it  would  be  well  for  you  to  regard  this  money, 


LETTERS    TO    THE    DUKHOBORS  345 

like  all  the  other  means  which  you  receive  from  good 
people  and  working  brothers,  as  your  common  possession, 
and  not  to  divide  it  up  among  yourselves  :  give  most  to  him 
who  needs  most.  Your  old  people,  together  with  your 
friends,  will  help  you  distribute  it. 

I  have  heard  that  you  have  suffered  much  want.  God 
grant  that  you  may  bear  your  trials  in  the  same  Christian 
spirit  of  submission  to  God's  will,  in  meekness  and  broth- 
erly love,  in  which  you  Hved  in  the  Caucasus,  showing 
people  an  example  of  Christian  life.  All  worldly  affairs 
—  joys,  and  sorrows,  and  wealth,  and  poverty  —  pass, 
without  leaving  any  trace;  but  our  deeds  —  the  good  or 
the  bad  —  leave  an  eternal  trace  both  in  the  world,  aiding 
in  the  establishment  of  God's  kingdom,  or  interfering  with 
it,  and  in  our  souls,  bringing  it  nearer  to  God,  or  removing 
it  from  Him. 

God  save  you  for  your  good. 

Your  loving  brother. 

November  6, 1899. 

III.   TO   THE   DUKHOBORS   IN   CANADA 

Dear  Brothers  and  Sisters  :  —  Those  of  us  who  pro- 
fess the  Christian  teaching  and  want  our  life  to  harmonize 
with  this  teaching  must  help  one  another.  The  most 
necessary  help  is  to  point  out  to  one  another  our  sins, 
those  sins  and  offences  into  wliich  we  fall  without  noticing 
them.  For  this  reason  I,  too,  asking  my  brothers  to  help 
me  in  my  sins  and  offences,  which  I  do  not  see,  regard  it 
as  my  duty  to  point  out  to  you,  dear  brothers  and  sisters, 
the  offence  into  which  I  hear  some  of  you  are  falling. 

You  suffered  and  were  exiled  and  even  now  suffer  want, 
because  you  wished  to  lead  a  Christian  life,  not  only  in 
words,  but  also  in  acts,  —  because  you  refused  to  commit 
any  violence  against  your  neighbour,  to  swear  to  do  police 
or  military  duty,  —  you  even  burned  your  weapons,  that 


346  LETTERS    TO    THE    DtJKnOBORS 

you  might  not  be  tempted  to  defend  yourselves  with  them, 
and,  in  spite  of  all  the  persecutions,  you  remained  true  to 
the  Christian  teaching.  Your  acts  became  knowu  to  men, 
and  the  enemies  of  the  Christian  teaching  were  confused 
when  they  heard  of  your  acts,  and  either  locked  you  up 
and  deported  you,  or  exiled  you  from  Eussia,  trying  in 
every  way  to  conceal  your  acts  from  men.  But  the  fol- 
lowers of  the  Christian  teaching  rejoiced,  triumphed,  loved 
and  praised  you,  and  tried  to  emulate  you.  Your  acts 
have  done  much  toward  the  destruction  of  the  kingdom  of 
evil  and  the  confirmation  of  men  in  the  Christian  truth. 
Now  I  learn  from  the  letters  of  our  friends  that  the  hfe  of 
many  of  you  in  Canada  is  such  that  the  very  followers 
of  the  Christian  teaching  are  confused,  and  its  enemies 
rejoice  and  triumph.  "  Here  are  your  Dukhobors,"  now 
say  the  enemies  of  Christianity,  "  the  moment  they  settled 
in  Canada,  a  free  country,  they  began  to  hve  like  all  other 
people,  hoarding  property  for  themselves,  and  they  not 
only  do  not  share  with  their  brothers,  but  even  try  to  get 
as  much  as  possible  for  themselves  individually.  Thus, 
whatever  they  did  before,  they  did  by  command  of  their 
head  men,  without  understanding  well  why  they  .were 
doing  so." 

Dear  brothers  and  sisters,  —  I  know  and  understand 
the  whole  difticulty  of  your  position  in  a  strange  country, 
amidst  strange  people,  who  do  not  give  anything  away 
for  nothing,  and  I  know  how  terrible  it  is  to  think  that 
our  friends,  feeble  people  with  famihes,  will  remain  with- 
out means  and  without  help.  I  know  how  hard  it  is  to 
live  in  a  commune,  and  how  provoking  it  is  to  work  for 
others,  who  are  careless  and  waste  what  has  been  acquired 
by  the  labour  of  others.  I  know  all  that,  but  I  know 
also  this,  that  if  you  want  to  continue  to  Hve  a  Christian 
life  and  do  not  wish  to  renounce  everything  for  which  you 
suffered  and  were  exiled  from  your  country,  you  cannot 
live  in  a  worldly  way  and  collect  property  each  for  him- 


LETTERS    TO    THE    DUKHOBOKS  3-47 

self  and  for  his  family,  and  retain  it  separately  from  the 
rest.  It  only  seems  to  us  that  it  is  possible  to  be  a 
Christian  and  have  property  and  retain  it  separately  from 
the  rest,  but  that  is  impossible.  People  need  only  recog- 
nize this,  and  very  soon  there  will  be  nothing  left  of 
Christianity  Ijut  words,  and,  unfortunately,  nothing  but 
insincere  and  hypocritical  words.  Christ  said  that  it  is 
impossible  to  serve  God  and  mammon ;  one  or  the  other : 
either  you  hoard  property  for  yourselves,  or  you  live  for 
God.  At  first  it  seems  that  there  is  no  connection  between 
the  rejection  of  violence,  the  refusal  to  do  military  service, 
and  the  recognition  of  property.  "  We,  the  Christians,  do 
not  worship  external  gods,  do  not  swear,  do  not  go  to 
court,  do  not  kill,"  say  many  of  us,  "  but  our  acquiring 
property  through  labour,  not  for  our  enrichment,  but  as 
a  provision  for  our  near  ones,  not  only  does  not  violate 
Christ's  teaching,  but  even  helps  us  to  fulfil  it,  if  from  the 
surplus  we  help  the  needy."  But  that  is  not  so.  Property 
means  that  that  which  I  consider  to  be  my  own  I  will  not 
only  refuse  to  give  to  any  one  who  may  wish  to  take  what 
is  miae,  but  will  also  defend  against  him.  But  to  defend 
what  is  mine  from  another,  I  must  use  violence,  that  is, 
in  case  of  necessity,  defend  it  by  means  of  a  struggle,  a 
fight,  even  murder.  If  it  were  not  for  these  acts  of 
violence  and  of  murder,  no  one  would  be  able  to  retain 
property. 

But  if  we  retain  property,  without  using  violence,  it  is 
only  so  because  our  property  is  defended  by  the  threat 
of  using  violence  and  by  violence  and  murder  itself, 
which  are  committed  against  people  about  us. 

Our  property  is  not  taken  from  us,  even  if  we  do  not 
defend  it,  only  because  it  is  assumed  that  we  would  de- 
fend it  like  any  one  else. 

And  so  the  recognition  of  property  is  the  recognition 
of  violence  and  murder,  and  you  had  no  reason  to  refuse  to 
do  military  and  police  service,  if  you  recognize  property, 


348  LETTERS    TO    THE    DUKHOBORS 

which  is  maintained  only  by  means  of  military  and  police 
service.  Those  who  do  mihtary  and  police  service  and 
enjoy  property  do  better  than  those  who  refuse  to  do 
military  service  and  do  not  do  it,  and  yet  wish  to  en- 
joy property :  such  people  do  not  serve  themselves  and 
want  for  their  own  advantage  to  make  use  of  somebody 
else's  service.  The  Christian  teaching  cannot  be  taken  in 
small  bits:  either  all  or  nothing.  It  is  all  inseparably 
connected  into  one  whole.  If  a  man  recognizes  himself 
as  the  son  of  God,  from  this  recognition  follows  love  of 
his  neighbour,  and  from  the  love  of  his  neighbour  follows 
at  once  the  rejection  of  violence,  and  of  the  oath,  and  of 
service,  and  of  property. 

Besides,  the  bias  for  property  is  in  itself  a  deception,  and 
Christ  discloses  it  to  us.  He  says  that  a  man  should  not 
trouble  himself  for  the  morrow,  not  because  there  is  any 
merit  in  it,  or  because  God  commands  it,  but  because  such 
a  care  leads  to  nothing,  because  it  is  impossible,  and  be- 
cause he  who  will  do  so  will  be  doing  something  foolish, 
since  he  will  try  to  do  the  impossible.  A  man  cannot 
make  himself  secure,  in  the  first  place,  because  he  is 
mortal,  as  is  shown  in  the  Gospel  parable  about  the  -rich 
man  who  built  barns,  and,  in  the  second,  because  it  is 
never  possible  to  find  the  limit  of  the  necessary  security. 
For  how  lono-  a  time  must  we  make  ourselves  secure  ? 
For  a  month  ?  for  a  year  ?  for  ten  years  ?  for  thirty  ? 
and  shall  we  make  ourselves  alone  secure,  or  also  our 
children  and  grandchildren  ?  and  how  ?  in  food,  or  also 
in  our  apparel  and  habitation,  and  what  apparel,  and 
what  habitation  ?  He  who  will  begin  to  provide  for 
himself  will  never  come  to  the  end  of  his  providing,  and 
will  only  lose  his  life  in  vain,  as  it  says :  he  that  shall 
wish  to  keep  his  life  shall  lose  it.  Do  we  not  see  rich 
men  who  live  in  misery,  and  poor  men  who  live  joy- 
ously ?  Men  do  not  need  to  provide  for  themselves, 
even  as  Christ  has  said  that  He  is  provided  for  by  God 


LETTERS    TO    THE   DUKHOBORS  349 

for  all  times,  just  as  the  fowls  of  the  air  and  the  lilies 
of  the  field  are  provided  for. 

"  Yes,  but  if  that  is  so,  and  people  shall  all  stop  work- 
ing, ploughing,  sowing,  everybody  will  starve  to  death," 
is  generally  said  by  those  who  do  not  understand  Christ's 
teaching  in  all  its  true  significance.  But  that  is  only  an 
excuse.  Christ  does  not  forbid  a  man  to  work,  and  not 
only  does  not  advise  us  to  be  idle,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
commands  us  to  work  all  the  time;  but  we  are  not  to 
work  for  ourselves,  but  for  others.  It  says,  The  son  of 
man  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister,  and. 
He  that  laboureth  is  worthy  of  his  meat.  A  man  must 
work  as  much  as  possible ;  but  he  must  retain  nothing 
for  himself,  —  he  must  not  regard  as  his  own  w^hat  he 
has  earned,  but  give  it  to  others. 

To  provide  for  himself  most  securely,  man  needs  one 
means,  and  this  means  is  that  which  Christ  teaches :  to 
work  as  much  as  possible  and  to  be  satisfied  with  the 
least.  A  man  who  will  act  thus  will  everywhere  and 
always  be  provided  for. 

The  Christian  teaching  cannot  be  taken  in  small  bits, 
—  a  part  to  be  taken  and  the  rest  discarded.  If  men, 
accepting  Christ's  teaching,  have  renounced  violence  and 
war,  they  must  also  renounce  property,  because  violence 
and  courts  are  needed  only  for  the  purpose  of  maintain- 
ing property.  But  if  people  retain  property,  they  must 
have  violence  and  courts  and  the  whole  worldly  structure. 

The  offence  of  property  is  the  most  grievous  offence, 
the  harm  of  which  is  very  cunningly  concealed  from  men, 
and  thus  very  many  Christians  have  stumbled  over  this 
rock. 

And  so,  dear  brothers  and  sisters,  in  establishing  your 
life  in  a  strange  country,  after  you  have  been  expelled 
from  your  country  for  faithfulness  to  the  Christian  teach- 
ing, I  see  clearly  that  it  is  in  every  way  more  advanta- 
geous for  you  to  continue  to  hve  a  Christian  life  than  to 


350  LETTERS    TO    THE    DUKHOBORS 

change  it  and  begin  to  live  a  worldly  life.  It  is  more 
advantageous  for  you  to  live  and  work  in  common  with 
all  those  who  shall  wish  to  live  the  life  you  lead  than 
for  each  of  you  to  live  separately,  hoarding  only  for 
yourselves  and  your  familes,  without  sharing  with  the 
others.  It  is  more  advantageous  to  live  so,  in  the  first 
place,  because,  by  not  laying  by  for  the  future,  you  will 
not  waste  your  strength  in  vain  in  providing  for  your- 
selves and  your  families,  which  is  an  impossibility  for 
mortal  man  ;  in  the  second  place,  you  will  not  waste  your 
strength  in  a  struggle  with  others,  in  order  that  each  of 
you  may  retain  his  property  distinct  from  his  neighbours ; 
thirdly,  because  you  will  work  and  earn  incomparably 
more  by  working  in  common  than  if  you  worked  in 
severalty ;  fourthly,  because  living  in  a  commune,  you 
will  spend  less  on  yourselves  than  living  separately ; 
fifthly,  because  living  a  Christian  hfe,  you  will  evoke  in 
the  people  surrounding  you  love  and  respect,  instead  of 
envy  and  hostility,  and  they  may  even  try  to  emulate 
you ;  sixthly,  because  you  will  not  ruin  the  cause  which 
you  have  begun  and  with  which  you  confounded  your 
enemies  and  pleased  the  friends  of  Christ.  Above  all 
else,  it  is  more  advantageous  for  you  to  live  a  Christian 
life,  because,  living  such  a  life,  you  will  know  that  you 
are  doing  the  will  of  Him  who  sent  you  into  the  world. 

I  know,  it  is  hard  not  to  have  anything  of  our  own ;  it 
is  hard  to  be  prepared  to  give  up  what  we  have  and  need 
for  the  family  to  any  one  who  may  ask  for  it ;  it  is  hard 
to  submit  to  the  chosen  leaders,  when  it  seems  that  they 
are  making  an  unjust  distribution ;  it  is  hard  to  bear  one 
another's  faults ;  it  is  hard  to  abstain  from  the  habits  of 
luxury,  meat,  tobacco,  wine.  I  know  that  all  that  seems 
hard.  But,  dear  brothers  and  sisters,  we  live  to-day  and 
to-morrow  we  shall  go  to  Him  who  sent  us  into  this 
world,  in  order  that  we  may  do  His  work.  Is  it  worth 
while,  for  the  sake  of  calling  things  our  own  and  being 


LETTERS    TO    THE    DUKirOBORS  351 

able  to  manage  matters,  for  the  sake  of  a  few  puds  of 
flour,  a  few  dollars,  fur  coats,  a  pair  of  oxen,  for  the  sake 
of  not  giving  to  those  who  do  not  work  the  things  which 
we  have  earned,  for  the  sake  of  a  word  of  insult,  for  the 
sake  of  pride,  for  the  sake  of  a  dainty  morsel,  to  go  against 
the  will  of  Him  who  sent  us  into  the  world,  and  not  to  do 
what  He  clearly  wants  us  to  do,  and  what  we  can  fulfil 
only  in  this  life  ?  It  is  but  very  little  that  He  wants  of 
us,  —  that  we  should  do  unto  others  what  we  want  for  our- 
selves. And  He  wants  this  not  for  His  own  sake,  but  for 
our  sake,  because,  if  we  all  agi-eed  to  do  so,  we  should  all 
live  as  well  as  possible  upon  earth.  But  if  even  the 
whole  world  lived  contrary  to  His  will,  no  individual  who 
understands  why  he  is  sent  into  this  world  has  any  caiise 
to  do  anything  else  but  that  for  which  he  is  sent  into  this 
world. 

To  me,  an  old  man  on  the  brink  of  life  and  standing 
aside,  this  is  clear ;  but  even  you,  dear  brothers  and 
sisters,  if  you  shall  consider  it  calmly,  casting  aside  for  a 
time  the  temptations  of  the  world,  will  see  clearly  that 
no  man  will  lose  anything,  but  each  will  only  gain  on  all 
sides,  if  he  shall  live  not  for  himself,  but  in  order  to  do 
the  will  of  God.  It  says,  "  Seek  ye  the  kingdom  of  God 
and  His  righteousness,  and  all  these  things  shall  be  added 
unto  you."  Any  man  may  verify  the  truth  of  it.  But 
you  have  already  verified  it,  and  you  know  that  it  is  the 
truth.  As  it  is^  we  are  seeking  all  these  things,  property, 
worldly  pleasures,  and  we  do  not  receive  them,  and  we 
lose  the  kingdom  of  God. 

And  so,  dear  brothers  and  sisters,  hold  firmly  to  the 
life  which  you  have  begun,  or  you  will  uselessly  lose 
what  you  had,  and  will  not  find  what  you  seek.  He  who 
sent  us  into  the  world  knows  better  than  we  what  we  need, 
and  He  has  arranged  the  world  in  advance  in  such  a  way 
that  we  receive  the  highest  good  both  in  this  and  in  the 
future  life,  not  by  doing  our  own  will,  but  His. 


352  LETTERS    TO    THE   DUKHOBORS 

I  do  not  dare  to  give  you  any  advice  as  to  the  way  you 
have  arranged  your  communal  life,  since  I  know  that 
you,  especially  your  old  men,  are  experienced  and  wise  in 
such  matters.  All  I  know  is,  that  everything  will  be 
well,  so  long  as  each  of  you  will  remember  that  he  did 
not  come  into  this  world  by  his  own  will,  but  by  the  will 
of  God,  who  sent  him  into  this  short  life  for  the  fulfil- 
ment of  His  will.  But  His  will  is  all  expressed  in  the 
commandment  of  love.  But  to  collect  property  individu- 
ally and  to  retain  it  separately  from  the  rest  means  to  act 
contrary  to  the  will  of  God  and  His  commandment. 

Good-bye.  Your  loving  brother. 

February  15, 1900. 


LETTER   TO   NICHOLAS   11. 

Your  Imperial  Majesty  :  —  The  enclosed  letter,  which 
was  received  by  me  from  Canada,  is  so  brief,  so  touching, 
so  eloquent  in  its  simplicity,  and  at  the  same  time  deals 
with  such  an  important  subject,  that  I  beg  you  very  much 
to  read  it  yourself  and  alone,  and  to  surrender  yourself  to 
those  good  sentiments  which  this  letter  will  no  doubt 
evoke  in  your  good  heart. 

Nine  young  women,  who  are  living  at  liberty  and  in 
good  circumstances,  and  two  old  mothers  ask  you  as  a 
special  favour  to  be  permitted  to  abandon  their  free  and 
secure  condition  and  to  emigrate  to  the  most  terrible  place 
of  exile  and  under  the  most  oppressive  conditions.  What 
moral  and  strong  people  these  men  and  women  must  be, 
if,  after  all  those  sufferings  to  which  they  have  been  sub- 
jected, they  are  not  thinking  of  themselves,  but  of  one  an- 
other, of  being  true  to  the  marital  law.  How  much  these 
people  must  have  suffered  for  one  another  in  these  six  years 
of  their  separation ! 

And  it  is  not  these  people  alone  who  are  suffering: 
tens,  if  not  hundreds  of  thousands  of  the  best  Eussian 
people  are  suffering  as  much,  if  not  more,  from  religious 
persecutions,  which,  by  some  strange  misunderstanding, 
continiie  to  exist  and  of  late  have  even  been  intensified  in 
Russia,  when  all  enlightened  men  and  governments  have 
long  ago  recognized  the  silliness,  the  cruel  injustice,  and, 
above  all,  the  aimlessness  of  such  persecutions. 

I  long  ago  wished  to  tell  you  about  those  terrible  and 
stupid  cruelties  which,  under  the  guise  of  defending  the 

363 


354  LETTER    TO    NICHOLAS    II. 

state  religion,  are  perpetrated  in  your  name.  My  ad- 
vanced years  and  the  nearness  of  my  death  urge  me  not 
to  delay  any  longer.  Thousands  and  thousands  of  truly 
religious,  and  so  of  the  best,  men,  who  form  the  strength 
of  any  uation,  have  already  perished  or  are  now  perishing 
in  prisons,  in  hard  exile,  or  are  sent  out  of  Eussia.  The 
flower  of  the  population,  not  only  of  the  Caucasus,  but 
also  of  Piussia,  eight  thousand  Dukhobors,  have  for  ever 
left  their  country,  and  not  only  have  no  regrets  about  it, 
but  even  think  of  it  with  disgust  and  terror,  thanks  to 
those  cruelties  to  whicli  they  have  been  subjected  in  it. 
A  few  thousand  Milkers  from  the  Kara  Territory  and 
Erivan  Government  (whose  petitions  to  be  permitted  to 
emigrate  from  Eussia  I  have  sent  you),  the  Milkers  from 
Tashk(^nt,  tens  of  thousands  in  the  Governments  of  Khar- 
kov, Kiev,  Poltava,  Ekaterinoslav,  who  are  oppressed  on 
account  of  their  religion,  ask  for  nothing  l)ut  that  they  be 
permitted  to  leave  their  country  and  go  where  they  may 
without  molestation  profess  God  as  they  understand  Him, 
and  not  as  is  demanded  by  the  authorities,  who  for  the 
most  part  do  not  recognize  any  God.  Knowing  that  all 
this  is  being  done  in  your  name  (and  you  cannot  help  but 
know  this ;  if  you  do  not  know  it,  let  a  truthful  man  in- 
vestigate it,  and  he  will  confirm  my  words  to  you),  and 
knowing  that  you  are  able  to  put  a  stop  to  it,  you  will  not 
find  any  peace  of  mind,  until  you  do  so. 

Your  advisers,  those  same  men  who  have  started  these 
persecutions  and  guide  them,  will  tell  you  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  stop  this,  that  I  am  a  Utopian,  an  anarchist, 
an  atheist,  and  that  no  attention  ought  to  be  paid  to  me. 
But  do  not  believe  them. 

What  I  say,  I  do  not  say  from  my  standpoint,  but 
from  the  standpoint  of  a  rational  and  enlightened  govern- 
ment. And  from  this  standpoint  it  has  long  ago  been 
proved  that  all  religious  persecutions  not  only  lower  the 
prestige  of  the  government,  deprive  the  government  of 


LETTER   TO    NICHOLAS    II.  355 

the  people's  love,  and  do  not  attain  the  aim  for  which  it 
is  founded,  but  even  produce  the  opposite  effect. 

And  so  it  has  long  been  time,  in  the  first  place,  to  re- 
view and  destroy  the  existing  laws  about  persecution  for 
religion's  sake ;  in  the  second  place,  to  stop  all  persecu- 
tions for  departing  from  the  profession  of  faith  adopted 
by  the  state ;  in  the  third  place,  to  free  all  men  who  on 
the  basis  of  previous  laws  were  deported  and  exiled  for 
crimes  against  religion,  and,  in  the  fourth  place,  not  to 
punish  as  a  crime  the  disagreement  of  the  religious  con- 
sciousness with  the  demands  of  the  government,  but  to 
try  to  harmonize  this  contradiction,  as  it  is  harmonized  in 
court  in  case  of  a  refusal  to  take  the  oath  by  promising 
to  tell  the  truth,  or  as  it  has  been  harmonized  in  the  case 
of  the  ]\Iennonites  in  their  refusal  to  do  military  service, 
by  substituting  for  it  obligatory,  non-military  labour. 

By  doing  so  you  will  not  only  relieve  yourself  of  a 
heavy  responsibility,  which  is  resting  upon  you,  but  you 
will  also  feel  the  joy  of  the  consciousness  of  having  done 
a  good  deed. 

May  God  help  you  to  do  what  pleases  Him. 

Your  loving 

Lev  Tolst6y. 

December  7,  1900. 


THOUGHTS    ON    EDUCATION 
AND   INSTRUCTION 

From  Letters  and  Diaries 
1887- 1901 


THOUGHTS    ON    EDUCATION 
AND   INSTRUCTION 


The  religious  conception  of  life  is  the  foundation  of 
every  human  life.  Man's  whole  life  is  arranged  on  the 
basis  of  religion,  and  all  his  activity  is  directed  upon  it, 
and  so  it  is  clear  that  education,  that  is,  the  preparation 
of  men  for  life  and  activity,  ought  to  be  based  on  rehgion. 

But  with  us,  in  our  so-called  civihzed  world,  religion  is 
not  only  not  acknowledged  as  important  and  necessary 
among  other  subjects,  but  is  also  regarded  as  one  of  the 
last,  most  unnecessary  subjects,  which,  as  a  survival  of 
antiquity  (in  which  no  one  believes  seriously),  for  the 
sake  of  decency,  is  somehow  taught  in  the  schools.  Natu- 
rally education  under  such  conditions  cannot  be  rational, 
but  is  perverse,  and,  speaking  of  education,  we  have  to 
begin  from  the  beginning. 

At  the  base  of  everything  ought  to  be  religious  teach- 
ing, siich  as  would  agree  with  the  degree  of  men's  enlight- 
enment, without  any  distinction  of  nationalities  and 
conditions. 

As  such  religious  teaching  obviously  can  serve  neither 
Catholicism,  nor  Orthodoxy,  nor  Protestantism,  nor  Mo- 
hammedanism, nor  Judaism,  nor  Buddhism,  which  are  all 
based  on  faith  in  certain  prophets,  but  only  a  teaching 

359 


360        THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION 

which  is  justified  by  reason,  by  the  sincere  striving  and 
experience  of  every  man.  And  such  a  teaching  is  the 
Christian  teaching  in  its  simplest  and  most  rational  ex- 
pression. 

The  religious  basis  of  life  consists  in  this,  that  our  life 
has  no  other  meaning  than  the  fulfilment  of  the  will  of 
that  infinite  Principle,  of  which  we  recognize  ourselves 
to  be  a  part ;  but  the  will  of  this  principle  is  the  union  of 
everything  living,  which  for  men  expresses  itself  first 
of  all  in  their  brotherhood  among  themselves,  in  their 
ministration  to  one  another. 

But  the  union  and  the  ministration  to  one  another  form 
the  meaning  and  work  of  life,  because  such  is  the  will 
of  that  Principle  which  rules  and  guides  the  world  and 
forms  the  basis  of  our  existence. 

The  whole  activity  of  education  ought  not  only  to  be 
based  on  this  foundation,  but  also  to  be  guided  by  it : 
everything  which  in  education  contributes  to  the  union  of 
the  beings,  the  brotherhood  of  men,  ought  to  be  encour- 
aged ;  but  everything  which  disunites  them  ought,  on  the 
contrary,  to  be  removed.  Everything  which  contributes 
to  this  end  more  freely  ought  to  be  put  first,  and  every- 
thing which  contributes  to  it  less  freely  ought  to  come 
later. 

Now  what  is  education,  and  in  what  does  it  consist  ? 

To  answer  this  question  precisely,  it  is  necessary  from 
a  certain  side  to  determine  the  properties  of  human  ac- 
tivity in  general. 

The  property  of  every  human  activity  is  such  that, — 
the  psychiaters  know  this  well,  —  if  a  man  is  in  the  con- 
dition of  hypnosis  or  idiocy,  that  is,  if  he  has  no  internal 
motives  for  his  activity,  he  submits  to  the  first  suggestion 
which  acts  upon  him,  for  the  most  part  in  the  form  of 
imitating  what  he  sees,  or  repeating  what  he  has  done : 
he  is  told  to  walk,  and  he  will  walk  and  will  continue  to 
move  his  legs  against  the  wall,  as  though  he  were  walk- 


THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION        361 

ing.  A  spoon  is  carried  up  to  his  mouth,  and  he  will 
keep  carrying  a  spoon  to  his  mouth,  until  he  is  stopped. 
Thus  act  hypnotized  persons  or  idiots ;  but  also  all  sen- 
sible people  have  this  property  of  submitting  to  the  sug- 
gestion of  another  man  or  to  their  own.  Eepeat  some 
word  and  be  thinking  of  something  else  or  have  your 
attention  diverted,  and  you  will  unconsciously  be  repeat- 
ing the  same  word.  The  same  is  true  of  acts.  This 
property,  which  presents  itself  as  so  pitiable  in  the  idiot, 
is  a  very  important  and  indispensable  property  in  men. 
If  a  man  were  to  think  of  every  act  of  his,  he  would  not 
be  able  to  abandon  himself  to  the  trend  of  his  thoughts 
and  to  solve  questions  of  science  and  of  life.  This  ability 
to  submit  to  another  man's  suggestion  or  to  his  own  gives 
him  the  ability  to  think. 

Every  one  of  us  does  but  a  small  part  of  his  acts  con- 
sciously, and  acts  according  to  his  own  suggestion  or 
according  to  a  suggestion  from  another  person.  The 
stronger  a  man  is,  the  less  he  submits  to  a  foreign  sugges- 
tion and  the  more  he  follows  his  own,  and  vice  versa. 
And  so,  in  addition  to  a  man's  greater  or  lesser  inborn 
spiritual  strength,  the  older  he  is,  the  less  he  submits  to 
foreign  influences,  and  the  younger  he  is,  the  more  sen- 
sitive he  is  to  foreign  suggestions. 

On  this  property  of  men  education  is  based. 

This  ability  to  receive  suggestions  turns  the  children 
over  into  the  full  power  of  their  elders,  and  so  it  is  clear 
of  what  importance  it  is  for  the  children  to  be  subjected, 
not  to  false  and  bad,  but  to  true  and  good,  suggestions. 

Everything  of  which  the  education  of  the  children  is 
composed,  —  from  prayers,  fables,  mathematics,  dances, 
to  the  vakiation  of  other  people's  acts  and  of  their  own, 
recognizing  some  as  good  and  others  as  bad,  —  all  that  is 
transmitted  by  means  of  suggestion. 

Conscious  suggestion  is  what  is  called  culture ;  uncon- 
scious suggestion  is  what,  in  the  narrower  sense,  is  called 


362        THOUGHTS  OK  EDUCATION 

education,  which  I  will  call  enlightenment,  in  contradis- 
tinction from  the  general  conception  of  education,  which 
includes  both  influences. 

All  efforts  are  in  our  society  directed  upon  culture,  but 
enlightenment  is,  in  consequence  of  the  fact  that  our  life 
is  bad,  that  is,  unenlightened,  necessarily  neglected. 

Educators  either  —  what  is  most  common  —  conceal 
their  lives  and  the  lives  of  adults  in  general  from  the 
children,  by  putting  them  under  exceptional  conditions 
(military  schools,  institutes,  and  so  forth),  or  transfer 
what  ought  to  take  place  unconsciously  into  the  sphere 
of  the  conscious,  —  they  prescribe  religious  moral  precepts, 
with  which  it  is  necessary  to  add :  "  Fais  ce  que  je  dis, 
mais  ne  fais  pas  ce  que  je  fais."  From  this  results  the 
phenomenon  that  culture  has  in  our  society  advanced 
immeasurably  far,  while  true  enlightenment  has  not  only 
receded,  but  is  even  entirely  lacking.  If  at  all,  it  may 
be  found  in  poor  labourers'  families,  when  the  members 
of  these  families  are  not  subject  to  the  vices  that  are 
peculiar  to  poverty.  But  of  the  two  different  influences 
upon  children,  the  unconscious  and  the  conscious,  the 
first,  that  is,  the  unconscious,  moral  enlightenment,  is 
incomparably  more  important  both  for  separate  individuals 
and  for  society. 

The  family  of  a  stockholder,  landowner,  official,  or 
even  artist,  or  writer,  living  a  bourgeois  life,  witliout 
drinking,  without  dissipation,  without  quarrelling,  with- 
out offending  people,  and  considering  itself  to  be  moral, 
wishes  to  give  its  children  a  moral  education,  but,  in 
spite  of  its  sincere  wish  and  endeavour,  such  an  edu- 
cation will  never  be  successful.  It  will  not  be,  be- 
cause the  immorality  of  the  life  led  by  this  family,  by 
not  using  in  a  brotherly  way  the  extorted  labours  of 
other  men,  an  immorality  which  is  not  perceptible  to  the 
adults,  who  are  used  to  it,  offends  the  pure  children  and 
corrupts  their  ideas  of  what  is  good.     The  children  will 


THOUGHTS  OX  EDUCATION        363 

hear  rules  about  monility,  about  respecting  men,  but 
unconsciously  they  will  not  only  imitate,  but  also  make 
their  own  the  rule  that  one  set  of  men  are  called  to 
get  their  boots  and  clothes  dirty,  and  another  —  to  clean 
them,  some  —  to  prepare  food,  and  others  —  to  eat  it,  and 
so  forth.  To  inculcate  upon  children  who  live  in  such 
surroundings  a  true  idea  of  morality  is  as  impossible  as 
to  educate  to  temperance  a  child  that  sees  everybody 
around  him  drinking  and  is  himself  given  wine  to  drink. 
The  child  feels  the  sequence  and  intrinsic  weight  of 
virtue  and  sees  clearly  —  what  his  elders  no  longer  see  — 
that  the  brotherhood  of  men  is  the  foundation  of  all  virtue. 
But  if  this  brotherhood  is  violated,  when  for  money, 
which  the  others  have  not,  they  tear  his  nurse  and  cham- 
bermaid away  from  their  famihes,  making  them  serve 
him,  a  stranger's  child,  he  dimly,  but  incontestably,  decides 
that  all  the  other  virtues  are  not  needed,  and  no  longer 
believes  in  anything. 

No  religious  or  moral  sermons  will  free  the  children  of 
people,  who  live  on  money  taken  away  from  others  and 
cause  others  to  serve  them,  from  the  unconscious  immoral 
suggestion,  which  remains  with  them  all  their  hves,  cor- 
rupting all  their  judgments  concerning  the  phenomena 
of  life. 

Thus,  in  order  that  the  most  important,  tlie  uncon- 
scious suggestion,  that  is  education,  may  be  good  and 
moral,  it  is  necessary  —  it  sounds  strange  to  say  so  — 
that  the  life  of  the  educators  should  be  good.  And  it  is 
not  to  be  good,  incidentally  good,  in  certain  details,  but 
its  foundations  are  to  be  good.  The  most  unblemished 
life  of  murderers  hving  on  the  fruits  of  their  murders 
cannot  produce  any  moral  influence  upon  the  children 
who  are  educated  in  their  midst. 

But  you  will  ask  :  "  What  shall  we  call  a  good  life  ? " 

There  are  infinite  degrees  of  goodness,  but  there  is  one 
common  and  chief  feature  of  a  good  life,  —  it  is  the  striv- 


364        THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION 

ing  after  perfection  in  love.  If  this  exists  in  the  educa- 
tors, and  the  children  are  infected  by  it,  education  will 
not  be  bad. 

For  the  education  of  children  to  be  successful,  the 
educators  must  continue  to  educate  themselves  and  aid 
one  another  more  and  more  to  realize  that  toward  which 
they  are  striving.  There  may  be  very  many  means  for 
that,  besides  the  chief  internal  means,  —  the  labour  of 
every  man  over  his  own  soul.  These  means  have  to  be 
found,  worked  out,  apphed,  discussed.  I  believe  that  the 
criticism  which  is  employed  by  the  perfectionists  is  good. 
...  It  is  good,  I  think,  to  try  to  find  most  unfortunate 
men,  who  are  physically  and  morally  repulsive,  and  to 
try  and  serve  them.  It  is  good,  I  think,  to  try  to  culti- 
vate the  acquaintance  of  our  enemies  who  hate  us.  I 
write  this  at  haphazard,  au  courant  de  la  plume ;  but 
I  think  that  this  is  a  whole,  most  important  sphere  of 
science  which  is  entirely  neglected  in  our  time  and  which 
is  necessary  for  education.  If  we  only  recognized  the 
importance  of  this  side  of  education,  we  would  work  it 
out.  (These  are  hints  for  one  side  of  the  work  of  educa- 
tion.) 

So  this  is  in  general  outlines  what  I  think  about  educa- 
tion. And  these  are  not  general  reflections,  which  remain 
nothing  but  reflections.  If  we  recognize  the  justice  of 
this,  we  shall  certainly  try  with  united  forces  to  work 
out  the  practical  methods  of  this  constant  perfecting  of 
the  educators,  which  is  so  necessary  for  the  cause  of 
education. 

These  methods  exist,  and  we  need  only  bring  them 
together ;  but,  in  addition  to  this,  if  we  shall  only  agree 
to  it  that  this  is  a  most  important  science,  we  shall  be 
able  to  find  the  means  for  establishing  and  developing  it. 

So  much  about  education. 

Now  about  culture. 

This  is  what  I  think  of  culture :  culture,  or  science  in 


THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION        305 

general,  learning,  is  notliing  but  the  transmission  of  what 
the  wisest  and  best  men  have  thought  and  expressed 
in  the  various  branches  of  knowledge.  Now  wise  and 
good  men  have  always  thought  and  expressed  their 
thoughts  in  three  different  directions: 

(1)  In  the  philosophico-religious  direction,  —  about 
the  meaning  of  life  in  general  and  our  own  life  (religion 
and  philosophy). 

(2)  In  the  experimental  direction,  by  drawing  conclu- 
sions under  given  conditions  (the  natural  sciences,  me- 
chanics, physics,  chemistry,  physiology). 

(3)  In  the  logical  direction,  by  drawing  conclusions 
from  the  propositions  of  our  thought  (mathematics  aud 
the  mathematical  sciences). 

All  these  three  kinds  of  science  satisfy  the  criterion  of 
the  brotherhood  of  men,  —  they  are  all  cosmopolitan  and 
accessible  for  all  men,  and  they  are  all  real  sciences,  — 
such  as  you  cannot  pretend  in,  such  as  do  not  admit  of 
half-knowledge,  —  you  either  know,  or  you  do  not  know. 

But  all  the  sciences  which  do  not  answer  these  de- 
mands, such  as  the  theological,  juridical,  and  special 
historical  sciences,  are  harmful  aud  should  be  excluded. 

Not  only  are  there  three  branches  of  sciences,  —  there 
are  also  three  methods  for  their  transmission. 

The  first  method,  the  most  customary,  is  that  of  trans- 
mitting by  word  of  mouth,  in  various  languages,  and  so 
there  appears  a  new  science,  —  the  languages,  —  again 
in  correspondence  with  the  criterion  of  the  brotherhood  of 
men.  (Maybe  there  would  also  be  a  need  of  teaching 
Esperanto,  if  time  permitted  and  the  pupils  so  wished.) 

The  second  method  is  that  of  plastic  art,  drawing, 
modelling,  —  the  science  of  how  by  means  of  sight  to 
transmit  to  another  what  you  know. 

The  third  method  is  music,  singing,  —  the  science  of 
transmitting  your  mood,  your  sentiment. 

Besides  these  six  branches  of  instruction  there  ought 


366        THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION 

to  be  also  introduced  a  seventh,  —  the  instruction  of 
handicraft,  which  again  answers  the  criterion  of  broth- 
erhood, that  is,  such  as  all  need,  —  carpentry,  cabinet 
work,  sewing. 

Thus  the  instruction  divides  into  seven  subjects.  What 
amount  of  time  is  to  be  used  for  each  of  these,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  obligatory  labour  for  one's  work  upon  one- 
self, will  be  determined  by  the  inclination  of  every 
individual  pupil. 

This  is  the  way  I  think  of  it :  the  instructors  arrange 
the  hours  for  their  own  convenience,  but  the  pupils  are 
free  to  come  or  not. 

However  strange  this  may  seem  to  us,  who  have  so 
distorted  education,  full  liberty  of  study,  that  is,  the 
permission  given  to  the  pupil  to  come  to  study  when 
he  wishes,  is  a  conditio  sine  qua  non  of  every  fruitful 
instruction,  just  as  it  is  a  conditio  sine  qua  non  of  nutri- 
tion that  he  who  feeds  should  feel  like  eating.  The  only 
difference  is  this,  that  in  material  matters  the  harmfulness 
of  a  departure  from  freedom  will  show  itself  at  once,  — 
there  will  at  once  be  vomiting  or  disorder  of  the  stomach, 
—  while  in  spiritual  matters  the  harmful  consequences 
will  not  appear  so  soon,  maybe  only  in  years. 

Only  with  complete  freedom  can  the  best  pupils  be 
brought  to  the  limits  which  they  can  reach,  and  not 
be  kept  back  for  the  sake  of  the  weak  pupils,  and  it  is 
these  best  pupils  that  are  needed  most.  Only  with 
freedom  can  we  avoid  the  usual  phenomenon,  —  the  dis- 
like for  subjects  which  in  their  proper  time  and  with 
freedom  of  instruction  would  be  liked;  only  under  free- 
dom is  it  possible  to  determine  for  what  specialty  a 
pupil  has  an  inclination ;  it  is  only  freedom  that  does  not 
impair  the  educative  influence.  Or  else  I  shall  be  telling 
the  pupil  that  violence  must  not  be  used  in  life,  and  shall 
be  exerting  most  grievous  mental  violence  against  him. 
I  know  that  this  is  difficult ;    but  what  is  to  be   done 


THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION        367 

when  you  come  to  understand  that  every  departure  from 
freedom  is  pernicious  for  the  cause  of  education  itself  ? 
But  then,  it  is  not  so  hard,  if  you  fully  make  up'  your 
mind  not  to  do  anything  foolish.  I  think  it  ought  to  be 
like  this :  A  gives  from  two  to  three  o'clock  a  lesson 
in  mathematics,  that  is,  teaches  what  the  pupil  wants  to 
know  in  this  field.  B  —  from  three  to  five  o'clock, 
drawing,  and  so  forth.  You  will  say  :  "  And  the  young- 
est ? "  The  youngest,  if  tilings  are  run  correctly,  always 
themselves  ask  for  and  love  accuracy,  that  is,  submit  to 
the  hypnosis  of  imitation :  there  was  a  lesson  yesterda}^ 
after  dinner,  and  so  he  wants  a  lesson  to-day  after 
dinner. 

In  general,  the  distribution  of  time  and  subjects  pre- 
sents itself  to  me  like  this :  There  are  in  all  sixteen  hours 
of  waking.  Half  of  these,  with  pauses  for  rest  and  play 
(the  younger,  the  longer),  I  propose  for  education,  in  the 
narrower  sense  of  enlightenment,  that  is,  for  work  for 
themselves,  their  families,  and  others :  cleaning  up,  carry- 
ing, cooking,  chopping,  etc. 

The  other  half  I  give  to  study.  I  leave  the  pupil  to 
choose  among  seven  subjects  what  attracts  him.  All  this, 
you  see,  is  written  at  haphazard.  God  demanding,  I  will 
work  all  this  out. 

I  want  to  add  that  I  should  not  advise  starting  any- 
thing new,  such  as  going  to  another  place,  or  some  theo- 
retical predetermination  what  the  school  should  be ;  nor 
should  I  advise  inviting  teachers  or  pupils,  but  I  should 
advise  making  use  of  present  conditions,  developing  the 
rest,  or,  rather,  letting  the  rest  develop  itself. 

I  will  add  also  something  about  drawing  and  music. 
Piano  instruction  is  a  flagrant  example  of  falsely  put 
education.  As  in  drawing,  so  in  music,  the  children 
should  be  taught,  by  always  making  use  of  the  most  ac- 
cessible means  (in  drawing,  by  means  of  chalk,  crayon, 
pencil ;    in  music,  by  means  of  their  throats,  to  be  able 


368        THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION 

to  render  what  they  see  and  hear).  This  is  a  beginning. 
If  afterward  —  which  is  a  pity  —  exceptional  pupils 
should  develop  especial  gifts,  they  may  learn  to  paint 
with  oil-colours  and  to  play  on  expensive  instruments. 

I  know  that  there  are  good,  new  manuals  for  teaching 
this  elementary  science  of  drawing  and  music. 

As  for  the  study  of  languages  —  the  more  the  better  — 
I  think,  French  and  German  ought  to  be  taught  by  all 
means,  and  English  and  Esperanto,  if  possible.  They 
should  b'e  taught  by  giving  them  to  read  a  book  they 
know  in  Eussian,  trying  to  make  them  understand  the 
general  sense,  here  and  there  paying  attention  to  the  most 
important  words,  the  roots  of  words,  and  grammatical 
forms. 

1901. 


IL 

I  HAVE  thought  a  great  deal  about  education.  There 
are  questions  as  to  which  one  arrives  at  doubtful  conclu- 
sions, and  others  as  to  which  the  conclusions  arrived  at 
are  final,  and  we  feel  ourselves  incapable  of  either  chang- 
ing them  or  adding  anything  to  them.  They  are  the 
following. 

Education  presents  itself  as  a  complex  and  difficult 
matter,  only  so  long  as  we  wish,  without  educating  our- 
selves, to  educate  our  children  or  any  one  else.  But  if 
we  come  to  understand  that  we  can  educate  others  only 
through  ourselves  the  question  of  education  is  made  void, 
and  only  the  question  of  life  is  left,  "  How  must  I  live 
myself  ? "  because  I  do  not  know  a  single  act  in  the  edu- 
cation of  children,  which  is  not  included  in  the  education 
of  oneself.  How  shall  we  dress,  feed,  put  to  bed,  and 
teach  children  ?  Just  as  we  do  ourselves.  If  the  father 
and  mother  dress,  eat,  sleep  with  moderation,  and  work, 
and  study,  the  children  will  do  the  same. 

I  would  give  two  rules  for  education:  not  only  live 
well  yourself,  but  work  over  yourself,  perfecting  yourseK 
all  the  time,  and  conceal  nothing  about  your  Hfe  from 
your  children.  It  is  better  for  the  children  to  know  of 
the  weak  sides  of  their  parents  than  that  they  should 
feel  that  their  parents  have  a  life  which  is  concealed  from 
them,  and  another  for  show.  All  the  difficulties  of  edu- 
cation arise  from  this,  that  the  parents,  far  from  mending 
their  faults,  or  even  recognizing  them  as  faults,  justify 
them  in  themselves  and  do  not  want  to  see  these  faults 

369 


370        THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION 

in  their  children.  In  this  does  the  whole  difficulty  and 
the  whole  struggle  with  the  children  consist.  Children 
are  morally  much  more  acute  than  adults,  and  they  — 
frequently  without  saying  so  or  even  being  conscious  of 
it  —  see  not  only  the  faults  of  their  parents,  but  even 
the  worst  of  all  faults,  tlieir  hypocrisy,  and  so  lose 
respect  for  them  and  interest  in  all  their  instructions. 

The  parents'  hypocrisy  in  the  education  of  their  chil- 
dren is  a  most  customary  phenomenon,  and  children  are 
sensitive  and  immediately  notice  it,  and  turn  away  and 
become  corrupt.  Truth  is  the  first,  most  important  con- 
dition of  the  actuality  of  spiritual  influence,  and  so  it  is  a 
first  condition  of  education.  That  it  may  not  be  terrible 
to  show  the  children  the  whole  truth  of  the  parents'  hfe, 
it  is  necessary  for  the  parents  to  make  their  life  good, 
or,  at  least,  less  bad.  And  so  the  education  of  others 
is  included  in  the  education  of  oneself,  and  nothing  else  is 
needed. 

Education  is  the  exertion  of  influence  upon  the  heart 
of  those  whom  we  educate.  But  we  can  exert  an  influ- 
ence upon  the  heart  only  by  means  of  hypnotization, 
to  which  children  are  so  subject,  —  by  the  infectious- 
ness of  the  example.  The  child  sees  that  I  am  irri- 
tated and  insult  people,  that  I  make  others  do  what  I 
can  do  myself,  that  I  pamper  my  greed,  my  lusts,  that 
I  avoid  work  for  others  and  seek  only  for  pleasures,  that  I 
am  proud  and  vain  of  my  position,  that  I  speak  ill  of 
others,  that  I  do  not  say  the  same  thing  of  a  man  behind 
his  back  that  I  say  to  his  face,  that  I  pretend  to  believe 
in  what  I  do  not  believe  in,  and  thousands  and  thousands 
of  such  acts,  or  the  opposite  acts,  such  as  spring  from 
meekness,  humility,  industry,  self-sacrifice,  abstinence, 
truthfulness,  —  and  he  is  infected  by  either  a  hundred 
times  more  powerfully  than  by  the  most  eloquent  and 
sensible  of  instructions.     And  so  all  or  nine  hundred  and 


THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION        371 

ninety-nine  thousandths  of  education  reduces  itself  to  the 
example,  the  correction  and  perfection  of  our  life. 

So  that,  what  we  began  with  within  ourselves,  when 
we  dreamed  of  an  ideal,  that  is,  of  the  good,  the  attain- 
ment of  which  is  possible  only  within  ourselves,  is  what 
we  are  brought  to  now  in  the  external  education  of  chil- 
dren. What  we  wished  for  ourselves,  without  knowing 
well  why  we  wanted  it,  is  now  indispensably  needed  by 
us,  in  order  that  we  may  not  corrupt  our  children. 

Of  education  we  generally  demand  too  much  and  too 
little.  It  is  impossible  to  demand  that  the  pupils  to  be 
educated  should  learn  this  or  that,  should  become  cul- 
tured, —  as  we  understand  culture,  —  and  it  is  equally 
impossible  for  them  to  become  moral,  as  we  understand 
the  w^ord.  But  it  is  quite  possible  for  us  not  to  be  par- 
ticipants in  the  corruption  of  the  children  (and  in  this  a 
husband  cannot  interfere  with  his  wife,  nor  a  wife  with 
her  husband),  but  with  our  whole  life  and  to  the  best  of 
our  ability  to  act  upon  them,  infecting  them  with  the 
example  of  goodness. 

I  think  that  it  is  not  only  difficult,  but  even  impossible, 
to  educate  children  well,  if  we  are  ourselves  bad,  and  that 
the  education  of  children  is  only  self-perfection,  which  is 
not  aided  by  anything  so  much  as  by  children.  How 
ridiculous  are  the  demands  of  people  who  smoke,  drink, 
eat  immoderately,  do  not  work,  and  turn  night  into  day, 
that  the  doctor  should  make  them  well,  in  spite  of  their 
unhealthy  mode  of  hfe !  Just  as  ridiculous  are  the 
demands  of  people  that  they  be  taught  how,  continu- 
ing to  lead  an  immoral  life,  they  may  be  able  to  give 
their  children  a  moral  education.  All  education  consists 
in  a  greater  and  ever  greater  consciousness  of  our  own 
errors  and  in  our  mending  them.  This  anybody  can  do 
under  all  possible  conditions  of  life.  This  is  the  most 
powerful  tool  given  to  man  for  the  purpose  of  acting  upon 
other  men,  among  them  upon  his  children,  who  are  always 


372  THOUGHTS    OIT   EDUCATION 

involuntarily  nearest  of  all  to  him.     Fais  ce  que  dois,  ad- 
vienne  que  'pourra  refers  most  of  all  to  education. 

I  spoke  yesterday  about  education.  Why  do  parents 
send  their  children  away  from  home  to  a  gymnasium  ? 
It  suddenly  became  clear  to  me. 

If  the  parents  kept  them  at  home,  they  would  see  the 
consequences  of  their  immoral  lives  in  their  children.  They 
would  see  themselves  in  their  children  as  in  a  mirror. 
The  father  drinks  wine  at  dinner  with  his  friends,  and 
his  son  is  in  a  saloon.  The  father  is  at  a  ball,  and  his 
son  is  at  an  evening  entertainment.  The  father  does 
nothing,  and  so  the  son  does  nothing.  But  send  him 
to  the  gymnasium,  and  the  mirror  in  which  the  parents 
see  themselves  is  veiled. 

Living  a  corrupt,  inabstemious,  idle  life,  disrespectful  of 
other  people,  the  parents  always  demand  of  their  children 
abstinence,  activity,  respect  for  people.  But  the  language 
of  Hfe,  of  the  example,  is  heard  and  seen  from  afar,  and  is 
clear  to  the  old  and  the  young,  to  our  own  and  to  stran- 
gers. 

The  thing  is  that,  whether  for  the  external  success  of 
the  matter  a  loving  (and  not  a  violent)  treatment  of  the 
pupils  is  advantageous  or  not,  you  cannot  treat  them 
differently.  The  one  thing  which  may  be  said  for  certain 
is,  that  the  good  awakens  the  good  m  the  hearts  of  men 
and  certainly  produces  this  action,  even  though  it  is  not 
visible. 

One  such  drama,  that  you  will  go  away  from  your  pupils, 
that  you  will  weep  (if  they  find  it  out),  will  leave  in  the 
hearts  of  the  pupils  greater,  more  important  traces  than 
hundreds  of  lessons. 

Terrible  is  the  corruption  of  the  mind  to  which,  for 
personal  purposes,  the   authorities   subject  the   children 


THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION        373 

during  their  education.  The  reign  of  conscious  material- 
ism is  explained  only  by  this.  Such  nonsense  is  im- 
pressed upon  a  child,  that  afterward  the  materiahstic, 
limited,  false  comprehension,  which  is  not  carried  to  its 
conclusions,  of  those  who  arraign  the  incorrectness  of  the 
comprehension  presents  itself  as  a  vast  acquisition  of 
reason. 

Every  man  lives  only  for  the  purpose  of  manifesting 
his  individuality. 

Education  (the  education  of  the  present)  wipes  it  out. 

They  were  talking  to-day  about  a  boy  with  vicious 
inclinations,  who  was  driven  out  of  school,  and  that  it 
would  be  well  to  send  him  to  a  school  of  correction. 

It  is  precisely  the  same  that  is  done  by  a  man  who 
hves  a  bad,  unwholesome  life,  and  who,  when  he  is  over- 
taken by  disease,  turns  to  the  doctor  to  be  cured  by  him 
and  does  not  even  consider  that  his  disease  is  a  beneficent 
indicator  for  him  that  his  whole  hfe  is  bad  and  that  it 
ought  to  be  changed. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  diseases  of  our  society.  Every 
sick  member  of  this  society  reminds  us  of  the  fact  that 
the  whole  life  of  society  is  irregular  and  that  it  ought  to 
be  changed,  but  we  imagine  that  for  every  such  a  sick 
member  there  is  and  ought  to  be  an  institution  which 
would  free  us  from  this  member  or  which  would  even 
correct  him. 

Nothing  hinders  so  much  the  forward  movement  of 
humanity  as  this  false  conviction.  The  sicker  society  is, 
the  more  there  are  institutions  for  the  cure  of  symptoms, 
and  the  less  care  is  there  for  the  change  of  the  whole  life. 

It  is  terrible  to  look  at  what  the  rich  people  do  with 
their  children. 

When  one  of  them  is  young  and  foolish  and  impas- 


374      THouGnTs  on  education 

sioned,  he  is  drawn  into  a  life  which  is  lived  upon  the 
backs  of  other  people,  is  taught  this  life,  and  theu,  when 
he  is  tied  hand  and  foot  by  temptations,  —  when  he  cannot 
live  otherwise  than  demanding  for  himself  the  work  of 
others,  —  his  eyes  are  opened  (the  eyes  open  themselves), 
and  —  get  out  the  best  way  you  can :  either  become  a 
martyr,  renouncing  everything  you  are  used  to  and  cannot 
live  without,  or  be  a  liar. 

Children  are  good  for  this  reason  also,  that  they  have 
no  business  and  are  only  concerned  about  passing  the 
day  well.  It  is  thus  that  they  ought  to  be  educated  ; 
but  we  hasten  to  teach  them  business,  that  is,  instead 
of  the  eternal  work  before  God  and  their  conscience,  to 
do  the  work  which  is  established  by  certain  people  by 
agreement  as  play. 

If  I  had  to  choose,  —  to  people  the  earth  with  such 
saints  as  I  am  at  all  able  to  imagine,  but  with  no  chil- 
dren, or  with  such  people  as  we  have  nowadays,  but  with 
constantly  new  accretions  of  children  fresh  from  God, — 
I  would  choose  the  latter. 

One  needs  but  busy  oneself  with  education  in  order  to 
see  one's  shortcomings.  If  you  see  them,  you  begin  to 
mend  them.  And  mending  oneself  is  the  best  means  for 
educating  one's  own  and  other  people's  children  and 
grown  people. 

I  have  just  read  N 's  letter  in  which  he  says  that 

medical  help  does  not  present  itself  to  him  as  something 
good,  that  the  continuation  of  many  useless  lives  for 
many  hundreds  of  years  is  much  less  important  than  the 
feeblest  blowing  upon  the  spark  of  divine  love  in  the 
heart  of  another.  In  this  blowing  lies  the  whole  art  of 
education.  But  to  fan  it  in  others,  we  must  first  fan  it 
in  ourselves. 


TUOUGiITS    ON    EDUCATION  375 

The  teacher  complaiued  that  A is  a  poor  pupil, 

because  he  canuot  explain  in  words  and  write  out  an 
arithmetical  problem.  I  said  that  the  demand  for  an 
explanation  is  a  demand  for  a  senseless  memorizing, — 
the.  boy  has  comprehended,  but  is  not  yet  able  to  find 
words.  He  agreed  with  me,  and  said  :  "  Yes,  we  teachers 
are  obliged  to  make  the  pupils  learn  by  heart  the  very 
form.  For  example,  we  teach  that  every  discussion  of  a 
problem  must  begin  with  the  word  if."  If  I  were  told 
that  this  is  the  way  they  taught  iu  Japan  one  thousand 
years  ago,  I  should  have  hardly  believed  it ;  but  this  is 
done  among  us  by  the  fresh  fruits  of  the  university. 

The  word  is  one  of  the  most  natural,  most  widely  dif- 
fused, and  easiest  ways  for  the  transmission  of  thought. 
Unfortunately  it  is  also  the  most  deceptive,  and  so  in 
education,  where  deception  is  most  dangerous  and  the 
deception  is  always  very  easily  discovered  by  the  chil- 
dren, the  most  effective  and  best  means,  which  excludes 
the  possibihty  of  deception,  often  involuntary  deception, 
has  always  been  and  always  will  be  the  personal  example 
of  the  educator's  life.  .  .  .  The  person's  example  and 
life  includes  also  the  word.  The  example  teaches  how 
to  live  and  speak.  But  the  word  does  not  include  the 
example. 

To  educate  well,  we  must  live  well  before  those  whom 
we  educate.  And  so  we  must  be  as  pure  and  truthful  as 
possible  also  in  relation  to  the  question  of  sexual  inter- 
course :  if  we  consider  sexual  intercourse  a  sin  and  hve 
chastely,  it  is  possible  for  us  and  necessary  to  preach 
chastity  to  the  children ;  if  we  strive  after  chastity,  with- 
out attaining  it,  we  should  tell  the  children  so.  But  if 
we  live  unchastely  and  cannot  and  will  not  live  otherwise, 
we  shall  involuntarily  conceal  this  from  the  children  and 
shall  not  tell  them  so.     Even  so  people  do. 


376        THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION 

The  children  say  :  "  The  parents  say  that  their  children 
torment  them ;  if  they  only  knew  how  the  parents  tor- 
ment their  children  :  coquetry,  and  quarrels,  and  mean- 
ness, and  inequality  of  love,  and  injustice,  and  all  the 
vices  of  those  who  in  the  opinion  of  the  children  ought  to 
be  faultless." 

I  have  constantly  occasion  to  interpret  upwards  now 
this,  now  that,  utterance  of  the  Gospel.  Thus  I  just  now 
esteem  more  especially  the  hint  as  to  the  sanctity  of  the 
children  and  as  to  our  terrible  sin  of  offending  them,  when, 
without  noticing  it,  we  make  concessions,  compromise 
with  our  soul,  and  do  not  repent,  but  even  justify  our- 
selves. 

If  we  should  make  it  our  problem  to  mix  up  a  man,  so 
that  be  might  not  be  able  with  his  common  sense  to  get 
away  from  the  two  opposite  world-conceptions  inculcated 
upon  him  since  childhood,  nothing  more  powerful  could 
be  invented  than  what  is  done  to  every  young  man  who 
is  educated  in  our  so-called  Christian  society.  On  one 
side  he  is  taught  to  weigh  and  verify  everything ,  criti- 
cally, to  take  nothing  on  faith,  and  is  shown  how  the 
superstitions  of  antiquity  slowly  melt  before  the  light  of 
science,  how  everything  which  a  man  knows  must  be 
based  on  reason,  and  side  by  side  with  that  he  is  offered 
a  faith  which  not  only  has  no  explanations  whatever,  but 
even  offers  an  explanation  the  foundation  of  which,  like 
the  dogma  of  the  Trinity  and  others,  directly  contradicts 


reason. 


Public  education,  such  as  it  is  with  us,  is  directly  and 
very  artfully  organized  for  the  moral  corruption  of  the 
children.  And  so  I  think  it  right  to  make  all  possible 
sacrifices  so  as  not  to  subject  the  children  to  this  corrupt- 
ing influence.     But  with  the  present  arrangement  of  the 


THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION        377 

schools  there  is  even  no  need  of  making  great  sacrifices, 
since  the  instruction  in  the  schools  is  so  bad  that  cul- 
tured parents  can  give  more  information  in  much  shorter 
time.  All  this  I  say  in  cases  where  the  parents  are  at 
one. 

Our  life,  to  be  full,  must  by  all  means  have  two  sides : 
the  fulfilment  of  life  itself  for  our  own  sake,  and  the 
influence  upon  people,  —  for  the  change  of  their  false 
life,  —  the  sermon. 

You  have  both  sides.  I  say  and  think,  and  people 
think  of  me,  that  I  have  an  influence  upon  people  by 
means  of  my  preaching:  they  print  and  read  me  in  all 
languages.  But  you  have  chiklren  who  will  take  your 
whole  soul  into  their  hearts,  will  acquire  all  the  thoughts 
of  the  best  quahty,  and  will  for  ever  carry  them  into  the 
world,  transmitting  them  to  others. 

My  activity  is  a  loud  one,  and,  therefore,  external  and 
doubtful,  but  yours  —  upon  your  children  —  is  quiet, 
invisible,  underground,  but  irrepressible,  eternal,  unques- 
tionable, and  invaluable.  Only  look  upon  them  relig- 
iously ;  remember  that  they  are  living  divine  looms,  out 
of  which  you  cannot  chop  with  an  axe  what  you  have  put 
into  them.     God  has  deprived  me  of  this  activity. 

.  .  .  The  majority  of  men,  not  only  removed  from  you, 
but  even  near  to  you  in  convictions,  will  not  understand 
your  Kfe,  will  even  condemn  it;  but  the  children  who 
have  grown  up  with  you,  if  only  they  always  move  in  an 
atmosphere  of  love,  will  understand  you,  and  in  them 
you  will  get  your  reward.  Only  give  them  as  much 
liberty  and  enlightenment  as  possible,  of  course,  not 
gymnasium,  but  Christian  enlightenment.  I  do  not  know 
how  to  do  all  that,  because  I  have  not  experienced  it  my- 
self, but  I  see  the  importance  and  significance  of  the 
whole  matter.  I  see  that  it  is  more  important  to  send 
into  the  world  one  live  man  than  hundreds  of  books. 


378        THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION 

Education,  the  transmission  of  knowledge,  is  real  when 
it  transmits  the  important,  necessary  contents  (moral 
instruction)  in  a  clear,  rational,  comprehensible  form 
(science),  and  so  that  it  charms,  infects,  attracts  by  its 
sincerity  him  to  whom  it  is  transmitted  (art). 

But  with  us  the  moral  religious  instruction  is  trans- 
mitted without  clearness  and  without  sincerity,  —  our 
religious  instruction ;  science  without  moral  contents  is 
again  given  separately  ;  and  art,  —  nothing  but  attractive- 
ness,— again  separately. 

I  cannot  rejoice  in  the  birth  of  children  of  the  wealthy 
classes,  —  they  breed  drones. 

Every  child  of  the  well-to-do  classes  is  by  his  very 
education  put  in  the  position  of  a  rascal  who  by  means 
of  a  dishonourable  life  is  to  provide  himself  with  at  least 
five  hundred  roubles  per  year. 

At  first  I  thought  that  the  ability  to  learn  was  a  sign 
of  dulness,  a  paradox,  but  I  really  did  not  believe  it, 
because  I  myself  did  not  study  well ;  but  now  I  am  con- 
vinced that  it  is  the  truth  and  that  it  cannot  be  other- 
wise. In  order  to  receive  other  people's  ideas  one  must 
not  have  any  of  one's  own. 

Somnambulists  learn  best  of  all. 

It  has  for  a  long  time  been  my  opinion  that,  as  it  is 
not  only  useless,  but  even  harmful,  to  fill  the  stomach 
which  does  not  demand  any  food,  so  it  is  useless  and 
always  harmful  to  transmit  knowledge  by  force,  and  not 
for  the  purpose  of  satisfying  the  demands  of  the  learner. 
This  opinion  long  ago  became  an  undoubted  truth  to  me, 
and  I  am  glad  to  find  this  fundamental  truth  in  Schultz's 
teaching. 


THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION        379 

It  is  impossible  to  imagine  anything  more  terrible  than 
those  crimes  which  are  committed  in  these  dens  (the 
military  institutions  of  learning).  Here,  in  these  places, 
are  not  only  confirmed  all  these  horrors,  tortures,  murders, 
robberies,  which  are  committed  in  the  world,  but  directly, 
in  the  most  impudent  manner  and  systematically,  the 
souls  of  all  adolescent  young  men  are  ruined. 

Is  female  education  good  ?  Yes.  Are  the  university 
lectures  good  ?  No.  Why  ?  Because,  like  any  school, 
they  put  men  in  a  condition  which  is  most  susceptible  of 
hypnosis.  The  true,  not  injurious  education  every  man 
acquires  by  himself,  that  is,  not  by  himself,  but  with  the 
aid  of  God. 

There  are  three  pedagogical  branches,  because  there  are 
three  kinds  of  reasoning:  (1)  the  logical,  (2)  the  experi- 
mental, (3)  the  artistic.  The  sciences,  study,  are  nothing 
but  the  acquisition  of  what  wise  men  thought  before  us. 
Wise  men  have  always  thought  in  these  three  ways :  they 
either  made  logical  deductions  from  the  propositions  of 
thought ;  or  they  observed,  and,  segregating  the  phenome- 
non under  observation  from  all  the  rest,  made  their 
deductions  as  to  the  causes  and  results  of  the  phe- 
nomena ;  or  they  described  what  they  saw,  knew,  and 
imagined.  More  briefly.  (1)  they  thought,  (2)  observed, 
and  (3)  expressed.  And  so  there  are  three  kinds  of 
sciences:  (1)  the  mathematical,  (2)  the  experimental, 
and  (3)  the  languages. 


III. 

.  .  When  I  received  your  letter,  I  immediately  decided 
that  I  would  try  in  the  best  way  possible  to  answer  your 
first  question,  which  is  of  prime  importance  and  which 
has  interested  me  without  cessation;  but  various  causes 
have  so  far  kept  me  back,  and  I  am  only  now  able  to 
satisfy  your  wish  and  mine. 

From  the  time  —  beginning  twenty  years  ago  —  that 
I  came  to  see  clearly  how  humanity  must  and  should  live 
happily,  and  how  senselessly,  tormenting  itself,  it  ruins 
generation  after  generation,  I  kept  removing  farther  and 
farther  the  radical  cause  of  this  madness  and  this  ruin : 
at  first  I  found  this  cause  in  the  false  economic  structure, 
then  in  governmental  violence,  which  maintains  this  order ; 
but  now  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  funda- 
mental cause  of  everything  is  to  be  found  in  the  false 
rehgious  doctrine,  which  is  inculcated  by  means  of  edu- 
cation. 

We  have  become  so  used  to  the  religious  lie  which 
surrounds  us  that  we  do  not  observe  all  the  horror,  stu- 
pidity, and  cruelty  with  which  the  ecclesiastic  doctrine 
is  filled.  We  need  only  understand  clearly  what  we  are 
doing  when  we  teach  our  children  the  so-called  law  of 
God,  to  become  frightened  at  the  terrible  crime  which 
is  committed  by  such  instruction.  A  pure,  innocent, 
still  undeceived  and  still  not  deceiving  boy  comes  to  us, 
men  of  years,  who  possess  or  may  possess  all  the  knowl- 
edge which  in  our  time  is  accessible  to  humanity,  and  asks 
for  those  principles  by  which  a  man  is  to  be  guided  iu 

880 


THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION         381 

this  life.  What  do  we  tell  him  ?  Frequently  we  do  not 
even  answer,  but  only  put  aside  his  question,  so  that  he 
may  have  a  prepared  inspired  answer,  when  the  question 
shall  arise.  We  answer  his  questions  with  a  gross,  inco- 
herent, often  stupid,  and,  above  all,  cruel  Jewish  legend, 
which  we  give  him  in  the  original  or,  still  worse,  in  our 
own  words.  We  tell  him,  impressing  it  upon  him  as  a 
sacred  truth,  what  we  know  could  not  have  happened  and 
what  has  no  meaning  for  us,  namely,  that  six  thousand 
years  ago  a  strange,  wild  being,  whom  we  call  God,  took 
it  into  His  head  to  create  the  world,  and  actually  created  it 
and  also  man ;  that  man  sinned,  the  evil  God  punished 
him  and  all  of  us  for  this,  then  redeemed  us  from  Him- 
self by  the  death  of  His  son,  and  that  our  chief  business 
consists  in  propitiating  this  God  and  freeing  ourselves 
from  those  sufferings  to  which  He  has  doomed  us.  It 
seems  to  us  that  that  is  all  right  and  is  even  useful  for 
the  child,  and  we  listen  in  delight  as  he  repeats  all 
these  horrors,  without  considering  that  terrible  transfor- 
mation, which  is  unnoticeable  to  us  because  it  is  spiritual 
and  which  is  taking  place  in  the  child's  soul.  We  think 
that  the  child's  soul  is  a  tabula  rasa,  on  which  anything 
we  please  may  be  written.  But  that  is  not  so :  the  child 
has  a  dim  conception  of  what  is  the  beginning  of  every- 
thing, that  cause  of  his  existence,  that  force,  in  whose 
power  he  is,  and  he  has  the  same  high,  indefinite,  and 
inexpressible  conception,  cognized  by  his  whole  being,  of 
the  beginning,  which  is  proper  for  all  rational  men.  Sud- 
denly he  is  told  instead  that  this  beginning  is  nothing  but 
some  personal,  conceited,  terribly  evil  being,- —  the  Jewish 
God.  The  child  has  a  dim  and  correct  idea  of  the  purpose 
of  this  life,  which  he  sees  in  happiness,  attainable  in  a 
communion  of  love.  Instead  of  this  he  is  told  that  the 
general  purpose  of  life  is  the  will  of  the  conceited  God, 
and  that  the  personal  aim  of  every  man  is  liberation  from 
eternal  punishments  and  torments,  deserved  by  somebody. 


382        THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION 

which  God  has  imposed  upon  all  men.  Every  child  has 
also  the  consciousness  of  the  fact  that  man's  obligations 
are  very  complex  and  lie  in  the  moral  sphere.  Instead 
of  this  he  is  told  that  his  obhgations  lie  chiefly  in  blind 
faith,  in  prayers,  —  in  the  enunciation  of  certain  words 
at  a  certain  time,  in  the  swallowing  of  a  sop  of  wine  and 
bread,  which  is  supposed  to  represent  God's  blood  and  body, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  images,  miracles,  immoral  Bible  sto- 
ries, which  are  represented  as  model  acts,  or  of  the  Gospel 
miracles  and  the  whole  immoral  significance  which  is 
ascribed  to  the  Gospel  history.  It  is  as  though  some  one 
should  form  a  complete  doctrine  out  of  the  cycle  of  Eus- 
sian  byliuas,  with  Dobrynya,  Dyuk,  and  others,  with  the 
addition  to  them  of  Eruslan  Lazarevich,  and  should  give 
this  to  his  children  as  rational  history.  It  seems  to  us 
that  this  is  not  important,  and  yet  this  instruction  in  the 
so-called  law  of  God,  which  with  us  is  given  to  our  chil- 
dren, is  the  most  terrible  crime  which  can  be  imagined. 
Torture,  murder,  violence  committed  upon  the  children 
would  be  nothing  in  comparison  with  this  crime. 

The  government,  the  rulers,  the  ruling  classes,  need  this 
deception ;  with  it  their  power  is  inseparably  connected, 
and  so  the  ruling  classes  always  want  this  deception  to 
be  practised  upon  the  children  and  maintained  over  the 
adults  by  means  of  an  increased  hypnotization ;  but 
the  people  who  do  not  wish  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
false  social  order,  but,  on  the  contrary,  for  its  change, 
and  who,  above  all  else,  wish  for  the  good  of  those  chil- 
dren with  whom  they  enter  into  communion,  must  with 
all  their  strength  try  to  save  their  children  from  this  ter- 
rible deception.  And  so  a  complete  indifference  of  the 
children  to  religious  questions  and  the  rejection  of  all 
religious  forms  is  still  incomparably  better  than  the 
Judffio-ecclesiastic  instruction,  even  though  in  the  most 
perfected  forms.  It  seems  to  me  that  for  every  man  who 
has  come  to  understand  the  whole  significance  of  the  trans- 


THOUGHTS  ON  EDUCATION"        383 

mission  of  the  false  doctrine  as  sacred  history  there  cannot 
even  be  any  question  as  to  what  he  should  do,  though  he 
may  not  have  any  positive  religious  convictions  to  trans- 
mit to  his  child.  If  I  know  that  a  deception  is  a  decep- 
tion, I  can  under  no  condition  tell  the  child,  who  asks  me 
naively  and  confidently,  that  what  I  know  as  a  deception 
is  sacred  history.  It  would  be  better  if  I  could  answer 
truthfully  all  those  questions  which  the  church  answers 
in  such  a  lying  way  ;  but  if  I  am  not  able  to  do  so,  I  must 
still  abstain  from  giving  out  a  certain  lie  as  the  truth, 
being  confident  that  nothing  but  good  can  come  from  my 
sticking^  to  the  truth.  Besides,  it  is  not  true  that  a  man 
has  nothing  to  tell  his  child  but  the  positive  religious 
truth  which  he  professes.  Every  sincere  man  knows  that 
good,  in  the  name  of  which  he  lives.  Let  him  tell  that  to 
his  child,  or  life  will  show  it  to  him,  and  he  will  do  well 
and  will  certainly  not  do  the  child  any  harm.  I  WTote 
a  little  book,  called  The  Christian  Teaching,  in  which  I 
wanted  to  say  in  the  simplest  and  clearest  form  what 
I  believe.  If  I  had  just  now  to  give  to  a  child  the  essence 
of  the  religious  teaching  which  I  consider  the  truth,  I 
should  tell  him  that  we  came  into  this  world  and  live 
in  it,  not  by  our  will,  but  by  the  will  of  that  which  we 
call  God,  and  that,  therefore,  we  shall  fare  well  only  when 
we  shall  do  this  will.  But  this  will  consists  in  this,  that  we 
all  should  be  happy.  For  all  of  us  to  be  happy  there  exists 
but  one  means :  every  one  of  us  must  act  toward  others  as 
he  would  have  others  act  toward  him.  In  reply  to  the  ques- 
tions as  to  how  the  world  originated  and  what  awaits  us 
after  death,  I  should  answer  the  first  with  a  confession 
of  my  ignorance  and  the  incorrectness  of  the  question  (in 
the  whole  Buddhist  world  this  question  does  not  exist) ;  the 
second  I  should  answer  with  the  assumption  that  the  will  of 
Him  who  called  us  into  this  world  for  our  good  leads  us 
somewhere  through  death,  no  doubt  for  the  same  purpose. 
December  13,  1899. 


LETTERS  TO  VARIOUS 
PERSONS 

1886- 1903 


LETTERS   TO  VARIOUS 
PERSONS 


LETTER   TO   A   REVOLUTIONIST 

By  long  and  hard  experience  I  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  it  is  useless  to  argue  with  people  who  do  not 
see  what  they  cannot  help  seeing,  because  such  people  are 
not  guided  in  their  reflections  by  the  search  after  truth, 
but  by  the  defence  of  their  position,  their  past  and  pres- 
ent. To  argue  with  such  people  is  the  same  as  arguing 
with  a  builder  who  has  erected  a  house,  in  which  he  has 
put  all  his  pride  and  his  hfe,  and,  finding  that  his  angles 
are  not  right,  does  not  want  to  know  or  see  that  a  right 
angle  is  one-half  of  a  straight  angle. 

He  wants  the  angle  which  he  has  built  as  a  right  angle 
to  be  right,  and  so  he,  a  clever  and  serious  man,  will  not 
and  cannot  understand  the  properties  of  a  right  angle. 
The  same  is  true  of  the  retorts  which  I  constantly  hear 
against  the  indubitable  and  obvious  moral  truth  of  non- 
resistance  to  evil,  which  are  raised  from  two  mutually 
hostile  sides,  —  by  the  governmental  conservatives  and  by 
the  revolutionists. 

One  side  began  to  build  an  obtuse  angle,  the  other  for 
the  same  reason  began  to  build  an  acute  angle.  Both 
sides  are  angry  at  one  another,  and  still  more  at  the  L 

387 


388  LETTER   TO    A   REVOLUTIONIST 

square,  which  shows  them  that  they  are  both  wrong.  You 
are  defending  against  obviousness  and  yourselves  the 
angle  which  you  have  started,  and  which  does  not  agree 
with  the  right  angle,  which  you  know  well.  And  so  I 
am  not  going  to  prove  to  you  what  you  know  as  well  as 
I  do;  but  I  will  ask  you  for  a  moment  to  doubt  that 
everything  you  have  done  was  precisely  what  ought  to 
have  been  done,  and  that  what  you  intend  to  do  is  what 
ought  to  be,  and  from  this  abstract  standpoint  to  look,  say, 
at  the  arguments  of  your  letter  and  their  clear  and  direct 
purpose. 

Your  arguments  reduce  themselves  to  this,  that  a  man, 
in  the  name  of  the  love  of  men,  may  and  should  kill  men, 
because  there  exist  considerations,  mysterious  to  me  or  else 
very  incomprehensible,  in  the  name  of  which  men  have 
always  killed  one  another,  the  same  by  which  Caiaphas 
found  it  more  advantageous  to  kill  Christ  only  than  to 
ruin  the  whole  nation.  The  purpose  of  all  these  argu- 
ments is  the  justification  of  murder.  You  even  seem  to 
be  indignant,  because  there  are  some  people  who  assert 
that  it  is  never  right  to  kill,  just  as  I  found  people  who 
were  indignant  over  people  who  asserted  that  it  was  not 
right  to  beat  women  and  children. 

Humanity  hves,  the  moral  consciousness  grows  in  it, 
at  first  reaching  a  point  when  it  sees  the  moral  impos- 
sibility of  eating  one's  own  parents,  then  of  killing  the 
superfluous  children,  then  of  kilhng  captives,  then  of 
holding  slaves,  then  of  making  the  members  of  the  family 
mind  by  beating  them,  and  then  —  one  of  the  chief  acqui- 
sitions of  humanity  —  the  impossibility  of  attaining  the 
aggregate  good  by  means  of  murder,  and  in  general  by 
means  of  violence.  There  are  people  who  have  reached 
this  stage  of  the  moral  consciousness,  and  there  are 
people  who  have  not  reached  it.  There  is  nothing  to 
dispute  or  argue  about.  No  matter  how  conclusively  it 
may  be  proved  to  me  that  I  shall  attain  a  higher  good 


LETTER   TO    A    REVOLUTIONIST  389 

for  my  children  and  for  all  of  humanity  if  I  teach  my 
children  by  means  of  a  whip,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  do  so, 
just  as  I  cannot  kill.  All  I  know  is  that,  just  as  I  can- 
not fight  and  beat  children,  I  cannot  kill.  There  is  noth- 
ing to  discuss  about.  All  I  can  say  is,  that  those  who 
want  to  defend  violence,  and  especially  murder,  must  not 
speak  of  love,  just  as  people  who  want  to  prove  that  the 
acute  angle  of  their  building  is  a  right  one  must  not  speak 
of  the  perpendicularity  of  the  sides,  because,  by  asserting 
this,  they  refute  themselves.  If  we  talk  at  all  of  love,  no 
examples  of  robbers  will  ever  lead  up  to  the  necessity  of 
killing  another,  but  only  to  the  simplest  and  most  inevi- 
table deduction  from  love,  —  to  this,  that  a  man  vnW  with 
his  body  defend  another,  will  give  his  life  for  another, 
but  will  not  take  the  life  of  another. 

I  did  not  have  any  intention  of  arguing,  but  I  seem  to 
have  begun  to  argue.  All  right,  let  it  be.  Your  letter 
not  only  interested  me,  but  even  touched  me :  under  the 
thick  bark  (pardon  me)  of  your  superstitions  I  saw  a 
serious  mind  and  a  good  heart,  and  I  should  like  frater- 
nally to  share  with  you  the  conception  of  life  which  gives 
me  the  good. 

You  say  beautifully  that  the  fundamental  command- 
ment is  the  commandment  of  love,  but  you  are  vTrong 
when  you  state  that  all  private  commandments  may 
impair  it.  You  are  here  incorrectly  confusing  two  differ- 
ent things,  —  the  commandment  not  to  eat  pork  and,  say, 
the  commandment  not  to  kill.  The  first  may  be  in  dis- 
agreement with  love,  because  it  has  not  love  for  its  object. 
But  the  second  is  only  an  expression  of  that  degree  of 
consciousness  which  humanity  has  reached  in  the  defini- 
tion of  love.  Love  is  a  very  dangerous  word.  You  know 
that  in  the  name  of  love  for  the  family  very  bad  acts  are 
committed,  in  the  name  of  love  of  country  worse  ones 
still,  and  in  the  name  of  love  of  humanity  the  most  ter- 
rible horrors.     It  has  long  been  known  that  love  gives 


390  LETTER    TO    A    REVOLUTIONIST 

the  meaniug  of  life,  but  in  what  does  love  consist  ?  This 
question  has  continuously  been  solved  by  the  wisdom  of 
humanity,  and  always  in  a  negative  sense :  it  turns  out 
that  what  incorrectly  was  called  and  passed  under  the 
form  of  love  was  not  love.  To  kill  people  is  not  love,  to 
torture  and  beat  them  in  the  name  of  something,  to  pre- 
fer one  class  to  another,  is  also  not  love.  And  the  com- 
mandment about  not  resisting  evil  with  violence  is  a 
commandment  which  points  out  the  limit  where  the 
activity  of  love  ends.  In  this  matter  it  is  possible  to  go 
ahead,  but  not  back,  as  you  wish  to  do. 

Here  is  a  remarkable  thing:  you,  who  recognize  that 
the  meaning  of  life  is  in  serving  others  in  the  name 
of  love,  murmur,  because  the  safe  and  undoubted  path 
of  this  service  has  been  pointed  out  to  you,  just  as 
though  a  man  should  murmur  because  the  correct  chan- 
nel has  been  determined  amidst  shoals  and  submarine 
rocks.  "  Why  must  I  be  embarrassed  ?  Maybe  I  shall 
have  to  run  aground  on  a  shoal."  Are  you  not  saying 
the  same,  when  you  are  provoked,  because  it  is  not  right 
to  kill  a  robber  who  is  supposed  to  have  killed  some  one  ? 
"  But  if  it  cannot  be  otherwise  ? "  Well,  if  it  cannot  be 
otherwise  than  settling  on  a  shoal  ?  "  Maybe  I  will  settle 
on  a  shoal,  but  I  cannot  help  but  rejoice  at  having  the 
path,  and  I  cannot  help  but  wish  with  all  my  strength  to 
walk  upon  it." 

You  adduce  the  comparison  that  the  rule  about  not 
resisting  evil  is  like  the  rule  about  not  throwing  children 
out  of  the  window,  when  such  may  become  a  necessity, 
and  from  this  you  conclude  that  the  proposition  that  it  is 
not  right  to  throw  children  out  of  a  window  is  incorrect. 
It  is  only  he  who  needs  to  torture  children  in  general, 
who  is  concerned  in  an  activity  where  this  necessity  pre- 
sents itself  all  the  time,  that  will  insist  that  it  is  not 
right  to  prohibit  one  from  throwing  children  out  of  a  win- 
dow, because  such  a  necessity  may  arise  at  a  fire.    Pardon 


LETTER   TO    A    REVOLUTIONIST  391 

me,  but  this  is  so  in  our  present  case.  And  it  is  tliis 
that  is  so  terrible.  You,  who  are  unquestionably  a  clever 
man,  are  going  directly  against  common  sense,  and, 
though  unquestionably  a  good  and  self-sacrificing  person, 
you  defend  violence  and  murder. 

Violence  and  murder  provoked  you,  and  you  were 
carried  away  by  a  natural  sentiment,  let  us  say,  and 
began  to  oppose  violence  and  murder  to  violence  and 
murder.  Such  an  activity,  though  closely  resembling 
that  of  an  animal,  and  being  irrational,  has  nothing 
senseless  op  contradictory  about  it ;  but  the  moment  the 
governments  or  the  revolutionists  want  to  justify  such 
activity  on  rational  grounds,  there  appears  the  terrifying 
silliness  and  the  inevitable  heaping  of  sophisms,  in  order 
that  the  stupidity  of  such  an  attempt  may  not  be  seen. 
Justifications  of  this  kind  are  always  based  on  the  assump- 
tion of  that  imaginary  robber  who  has  in  himself  nothing 
that  is  human,  who  kills  and  tortures  innocent  people, 
and  this  imaginary  beast,  which  is  constantly  in  the  proc- 
ess of  kilHng  the  innocent,  serves  as  a  foundation  for 
the  reflections  of  all  the  violators  as  to  the  necessity  of 
violence ;  but  such  a  robber  is  a  most  exceptional  and 
rare  and  even  impossible  case;  many  persons  may  live 
hundreds  of  years,  as  I  have  lived  sixty,  without  ever 
running  across  this  fictitious  robber  in  the  process  of  com- 
mitting his  crime.  Why  should  I  base  my  rule  of  life 
on  this  fiction  ? 

When  we  discuss  real  life,  and  not  a  fiction,  we  see 
something  quite  different :  we  see  people,  and  even  our- 
selves, perpetrating  the  most  cruel  deeds,  in  the  first  place 
not  alone,  like  the  fictitious  robber,  but  always  in  connec- 
tion with  other  men,  and  not  because  we  are  beasts,  who 
have  nothing  that  is  human,  but  because  we  abide  in 
error  and  in  offences.  More  than  that :  when  we  reflect 
upon  life,  we  see,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  most  cruel 
deeds,  like  the  slaughter  of  men,  dynamite,  the  gallows, 


392  LETTER   TO    A    REVOLUTIONIST 

guillotines,  solitary  cells,  property,  courts,  power  and  all 
its  consequences,  all  have  their  origin,  not  in  the  fictitious 
robber,  but  in  those  men  who  base  their  rules  of  life  on 
the  silly  fiction  of  the  imaginary  beast  of  a  robber.  Thus 
a  man  who  is  reflecting  upon  life  cannot  help  but  see 
that  the  cause  of  people's  evil  does  in  no  way  lie  in  the 
fictitious  robber,  but  in  our  own  errors  and  in  the  errors 
of  others,  one  of  the  most  cruel  of  which  consists  in  this, 
that  in  the  name  of  the  fictitious  evil  an  actual  evil  is 
committed,  and  so  such  a  man,  who  has  directed  his 
activity  on  the  cause  of  evil,  on  the  eradication  of  error 
in  himself  and  in  others,  and  who  has  devoted  his  strength 
to  this,  will  see  before  himself  such  a  vast  and  fruitful 
activity  that  he  will  absolutely  fail  to  see  what  his  activ- 
ity has  to  do  with  the  fiction  of  the  robber,  with  whom 
he  will  in  all  probability  never  fall  in.  And  if  he  shall,  he 
will  in  all  probability  do  something  quite  different  from 
what  he  will  do  who,  having  never  seen  the  robber,  bears 
him  a  grudge. 

Now  I  beg  you  to  forgive  me,  if  I  have  written  you 
anything  that  is  blunt,  and  to  try  to  understand  me,  where 
I  have  not  expressed  myself  precisely ;  above  all,  to  -be- 
lieve me  that  I  had  but  one  incitement  in  writing  you 
this  letter,  —  love  and  respect  for  you,  and  the  desire  to 
be  useful  to  you.  Your  loving 

1886  (?).  Lev  Tolstoy. 


ON   NON-RESISTANCE   TO   EVIL 

Your  letter  gave  me  much  pleasure.  What  you  think 
about  non-resistance  to  evil  is  quite  correct,  as  you  your- 
self know.  It  is  at  times  sad  to  think  that  our  society 
is  in  such  deep  darkness  that  it  takes  great  eftorts  —  such 
as  you  have  made  and  but  few  are  capable  of  —  in  order, 
on  the  one  hand,  to  tear  oneself  away  from  the  nets  of 
formal,  false  Christianity,  and  on  the  other,  from  the  rev- 
olutionary liberalism  which  controls  the  press,  and  to 
understand  the  simplest  truths,  such  as  that  two  times 
two  are  four,  in  the  moral  sphere,  that  is,  that  we  ought 
not  to  do  the  same  evil  against  which  we  fight.  All  this 
apparently  complicated  proposition  about  non-resistance 
to  evil  and  the  objection  to  it  reduce  themselves  to  this, 
that,  instead  of  understanding  it,  as  it  is  written,  "  Do 
not  resist  evil  or  violence  with  evil  or  violence,"  they 
understand  (I  even  think,  intentionally)  that  it  says, 
"  Do  not  resist  evil,  that  is,  be  indulgent  to  evil,  be  indif- 
ferent to  it ; "  whereas  to  resist  evil,  to  strusrde  against 
it,  is  the  only  external  problem  of  Christianity,  and  the 
rule  about  non-resistance  to  evil  is  given  as  a  rule  how 
to  struggle  in  the  most  successful  manner  against  evil. 
It  says  "  You  are  in  the  habit  of  struggling  against  evil 
by  means  of  violence,  or  of  retribution.  This  is  a  bad,  a 
wicked,  means.  The  best  means  is  not  to  repay  except 
with  good."  It  is  as  though  a  man  should  try  to  push 
a  door  inward,  when  it  opens  outward,  and  another,  know- 
ing about  it,  should  say,  "  Do  not  push,  but  pull."  But 
this  is  so  only   in  our  backward  cultured  society.     In 

393 


394  OlSr    NON-RESISTANCE    TO    EVIL 

America,  for  example,  this  question  was  worked  out  from 
all  sides  fifty  years  ago,  and  it  is  a  shame  to  talk  of  it,  as 
though  we  should  have  to  prove  the  system  of  Coperni- 
cus to  those  who  deny  it,  just  as  Galileo  was  denied. 
Thus,  on  the  one  hand,  I  say,  I  sometimes  feel  ashamed 
of  our  ignorance,  and  on  the  other,  I  see  the  use  of  it. 
He  who,  like  yourself,  with  his  own  mind  pierces  this 
bark  of  lies  and  ignorance,  has  the  earnest  of  a  firmer 
comprehension  of  everything  connected  with  this  proposi- 
tion than  he  for  whom  it  has  all  been  masticated  and 
put  into  his  mouth. 

There  is,  however,  one  thing  in  wliich  you  are  not 
right,  and  that  is,  that  you  are  too  timid  to  follow  your 
reflection  in  regard  to  the  madmen.  In  thought  not  the 
slightest  compromise  can  be  admitted.  There  will  inevi- 
tably be  a  compromise  in  practice  (as  you  say  correctly), 
and  so  we  must  much  less  admit  it  in  theory.  If  I  want 
to  draw  a  line  which  is  mathematically  approximately 
straight,  I  cannot  for  a  second  admit  that  a  straight  line 
may  not  be  the  shortest  distance  between  two  points.  If 
I  admit  that  a  madman  may  be  locked  up,  I  must  also 
admit  that  he  may  be  killed.  Why  should  he  suffer  ? 
Take  the  example  of  a  mad  dog :  we  certainly  lock  it  up 
and  kill  it. 

If  I  admit  that  a  dangerous  madman  may  be  locked 
up,  it  will  seem  possible  and  even  necessary  to  somebody 
to  have  us  locked  up.  And  do  not  be  afraid,  as  you  are, 
of  thinking  in  this  direction.  If  it  be  right  to  lock  him 
up,  there  will  be  that  violence  which  now  causes  the 
world  to  groan :  in  Eussia  there  are  one  hundred  thou- 
sand prisoners ;  and  if  it  is  not  right,,  what  makes  it  so 
terrible  ?  •  Is  it  that  the  madman  will  kill  me,  you,  my 
daughter,  your  mother?  What  is  there  about  it  that  is 
terrible?  We  all  may  and  certainly  wiU  die.  But  we 
ought  not  to  do  any  evil.  In  the  first  place,  madmen 
rarely  kill,  and  if  they  do,  the  subject  to  be  pitied,  to  be 


ON    NON-RESISTANCE    TO    EVIL  395 

helped,  is  not  I,  who  only  may  be  killed,  but  he,  who  is 
certainly  distorted  and  suffering ;  I  must  aid  him,  think 
of  him.  If  people  did  not  take  the  liberty  for  the  sake 
of  their  safety  to  lock  up  and  kill  those  madmen  and 
so-called  criminals,  they  would  see  to  it  that  no  new  mad- 
men  and  criminals  be  created.  As  it  is,  I  know  of  a  case 
of  a  wild  man,  a  mendicant  of  forty-five  years  of  age,  who 
tramped  with  his  daughter  and  did  not  stay  winter  nights 
in  houses,  and  committed  rape  on  his  daughter ;  another 
case  of  a  boy  of  eleven  years  of  age,  who  killed  his  five- 
year-old  sister  and  made  a  candle  from  her  fat,  that  all 
the  locks  during  his  burglaries  might  open ;  a  third  case 
of  a  pupil  of  my  school,  who  was  given  into  apprentice- 
ship, was  taught  to  drink  by  his  companions,  drank  until 
he  got  a  brain  disease,  was  sent  to  an  insane  asylum,  to 
relieve  his  family  and  those  about  him,  and  there  died. 
We  all  know  the  Skublinski  womnn.  They  will  all  be 
sentenced,  then  they  will  be  locked  up,  so  that  they  shall 
not  interfere  with  our  producing  the  like,  aiid  then  we 
say  that  it  would  be  cruel  to  leave  them  at  large.  No,  if 
they  were  at  large,  we  should  have  no  savages  walking 
under  the  telephone  wires,  no  boys  making  candles  from 
their  sister's  fat,  no  savages  drinking  themselves  into 
madness,  no  Skublinski  women. 

I  shall  be  very  glad  to  read  what  you  wrote  about  my 
story  (the  Kreutzer  Sonata).  The  other  day  I  wrote  for 
it  an  epilogue,  which  it  seemed  necessary  to  write,  because 
people  so  boldly  pretended  that  they  did  not  understand 
what  was  written  there. 

God  help  you  to  walk  on  the  path  on  which  you  are 
now  :  it  is  the  only  one. 

1890. 


TWO  LETTEES  ON  HENEY  GEOEGE 


In  reply  to  your  letter  I  hasten  with  the  greatest 
pleasure  to  say  the  following: 

I  have  known  Henry  George  ever  since  the  appearance 
of  his  Social  Prohlems.  I  read  the  book  and  was  struck 
by  the  correctness  of  his  fundamental  idea,  and  also  by 
the  exceptional  clearness,  popularity,  and  force  of  expres- 
sion, the  hke  of  which  cannot  be  found  in  scientific 
literature,  and  especially  by  that  Christian  spirit,  also 
exceptional  in  scientific  literature,  with  which  the  whole 
book  is  permeated.  After  reading  this  book,  I  went  back 
in  time  and  read  his  Progress  and  Poverty  and  still 
more  appreciated  the  significance  of  Henry  George's 
activity. 

You  ask  for  my  opinion  concerning  Henry  George's 
activity  and  his  single-tax  system.  My  opinion  concern- 
ing these  is  as  follows : 

Humanity  is  all  the  time  moving  forward  in  the  sense 
of  elucidating  its  consciousness  and  establishing  forms  of 
life  to  correspond  to  this  changing  consciousness.  And 
so  at  every  period  of  humanity's  life  there  is  taking  place, 
on  the  one  hand,  the  process  of  the  elucidation  of  the 
consciousness,  and,  on  the  other,  of  the  realization  in  life 
of  what  has  been  elucidated  by  the  consciousness. 

At  the  end  of  the  last  and  the  beginning  of  the  present 
century  there  has  been  taking  place  in  the  Christian 
humanity  the  process  of  the  elucidation  of  consciousness 
as  regards  the   labouring    class,   which    was    in    various 

396 


TWO  LETTERS  ON  HENRY  GEORGE     397 

aspects  of  slavery,  and  the  process  of  the  establishment  of 
new  forms  of  life  to  correspond  to  the  elucidated  con- 
sciousness, —  the  abolition  of  slavery  and  the  substitution 
of  free  hired  labour  for  it.  At  the  present  time  there  is 
taking  place  the  process  of  the  elucidation  of  conscious- 
ness in  relation  to  the  use  of  the  land,  and  very  soon,  it 
seems  to  me,  there  must  come  the  process  of  the  realiza- 
tion of  this  consciousness  in  life. 

In  this  very  process,  both  of  the  elucidation  of  the  con- 
sciousness in  relation  to  the  use  of  the  land,  and  also  of 
the  realization  of  this  consciousness,  which  forms  one 
of  the  chief  problems  of  our  time,  Henry  George  has  been 
the  leader  and  guide  of  the  movement.  In  this  does  his 
vast  and  prime  importance  consist.  With  his  beautiful 
books  he  has  contributed  to  the  elucidation  of  men's  con- 
sciousness concerning  this  question  and  to  placing  it  on  a 
practical  basis. 

But  with  the  abolition  of  the  revolting  right  to  the 
ownership  of  land  there  is  repeated  precisely  what  in  my 
memory  took  place  with  the  abolition  of  slavery.  The 
governments  and  the  ruling  classes,  knowing  that  with 
the  land  question  is  connected  their  advantageous  and 
prominent  position  in  society,  make  it  appear  that  they 
are  concerned  about  the  people's  welfare  and  establish 
working  men's  banks,  inspections,  income  taxes,  and  even 
an  eight-hour  day,  but  carefully  ignore  the  land  question, 
and  with  the  aid  of  their  subservient  science,  which 
proves  everything  they  want,^  assert  that  the  expropria- 
tion of  the  land  is  useless,  harmful,  impossible.  Precisely 
the  same  is  repeated  as  in  the  case  of  slavery.  The  men 
of  the  beginning  of  the  present  and  the  end  of  the  last 
century  for  a  long  time  felt  that  slavery  was  a  terrible 
anachronism,  which  was  revolting  to  the  heart ;  but  the 
quasi-religion  and  science  proved  that  there  was  nothing 
bad  in  slavery,  that  it  was  necessary,  or,  at  least,  that  it 
was  still  untimely  to  abolish  it.    Now  the  same  is  repeated 


398     TWO  LETTERS  ON  HENRY  GEORGE 

in  relation  to  the  ownership  of  land.  The  quasi-religion 
and  quasi-science  prove  in  the  same  way  that  there  is 
nothing  bad  in  the  ownership  of  land  and  that  there  is  no 
need  whatever  of  abohshing  it. 

It  would  seem  that  it  ought  to  be  clear  to  every  cul- 
tured man  of  our  time  that  the  exclusive  right  to  the  land 
held  by  men  who  do  not  work  it  and  who  deprive  hun- 
dreds and  thousands  of  needy  families  of  access  to  it,  is 
just  as  bad  and  mean  a  business  as  the  ownership  of 
slaves ;  and  yet  we  see  cultured,  refined  aristocrats,  Eng- 
lish, Austrian,  Prussian,  Eussian,  who  make  use  of  this 
cruel  and  mean  right,  and  not  only  are  not  ashamed  of  it, 
but  even  boast  of  it.  Keligion  blesses  such  a  possession, 
and  the  science  of  political  economy  proves  that  this  must 
be  so  for  the  greatest  good  of  men. 

Henry  George  deserves  credit  not  only  for  having  shat- 
tered those  sophisms  by  means  of  which  religion  and 
science  justify  the  ownership  of  land,  and  to  have  carried 
the  question  to  the  highest  degree  of  clearness,  where  it 
is  impossible  not  to  recognize  the  illegality  of  ownership 
of  land,  except  by  closing  one's  ears,  but  also  in  this,  that 
he  was  the  first  to  indicate  the  possibility  of  solving  this 
question.  He  was  the  first  to  give  a  clear  and  direct 
answer  to  those  customary  objections  made  by  the  enemies 
of  any  progress,  which  are  that  the  demands  of  progress 
are  impractical,  inapplicable  dreams. 

Henry  George's  project  destroys  this  objection,  by  put- 
ting the  question  in  such  a  way  that  to-morrow  com- 
mittees may  be  assembled  for  investigation  and  discussion 
of  the  project  and  for  its  transformation  into  a  law.  In 
Kussia,  for  example,  the  discussion  of  the  question  of  the 
purchase  of  the  land,  or  of  its  seizure  without  any  pay- 
ment, for  the  purpose  of  its  nationalization,  may  be  begun 
to-morrow,  and  the  question  may  in  various  circuitous 
ways  be  solved  exactly  as  thirty-three  years  ago  was 
solved  the  question  of  the  liberation  of  the  peasants. 


TWO  LETTERS  ON  HENRY  GEORGE     399 

The  people  have  been  sho\NTi  the  necessity  of  changing 
the  situation,  and  the  possibility  of  it  has  been  shown  to 
them  (there  may  be  changes  and  corrections  in  the  system 
of  the  single  tax,  but  the  fundamental  idea  is  practicable), 
and  so  they  cannot  help  doing  what  their  reason  demands 
of  them.  All  that  is  necessary  is  for  this  idea  to  become 
public  opinion  ;  for  it  to  become  public  opinion,  it  is  nec- 
essary to  diffuse  and  elucidate  it,  —  exactly  what  you  are 
doing,  and  in  that  I  sympathize  with  you  with  all  my 
heart  and  wish  you  success. 


Henry  George's  project  consists  in  this : 

The  advantages  and  conveniences  of  the  use  of  land 
are  not  everywhere  the  same ;  and  since  for  more  fertile, 
convenient  tracts,  which  are  close  to  well-settled  places, 
there  will  always  be  many  who  will  want  them,  —  and  the 
more  there  are  who  want  them  the  better  and  more  advan- 
tageous the  tracts  are, —  it  is  necessary  to  estimate  the  value 
of  all  such  tracts  in  accordance  with  the  advantages  which 
they  offer :  the  more  advantageous,  higher,  the  less  advan- 
tageous, lower.  But  such  land  as  is  not  desired  by  many 
is  not  to  be  valued  at  all,  and  is  to  be  left  gratuitously  to 
those  who  want  to  work  it  personally. 

With  such  a  valuation  of  the  land  it  will  happen,  for 
example  with  us,  in  the  Government  of  Tiila,  that  field- 
land  will  be  valued  at  about  five  or  six  roubles  per 
desyatina,  garden-land  near  settlements  at  about  ten 
roubles  per  desyatina,  meadow-land  at  about  fifteen 
roubles,  and  so  forth.  But  in  the  city  the  desyatina  will 
be  valued  at  one  hundred  and  at  five  hundred  roubles, 
and  in  Moscow  and  St.  Petersburg,  in  a  busy  place,  and 
near  the  harbours  of  navigable  streams,  as  high  as  thou- 
sands  and   tens  of  thousands  of  roubles  per  desyatina. 


400     TWO  LETTERS  ON  HENRY  GEORGE 

Having  thus  valued  the  land  in  the  whole  country,  Henry 
George  proposes  to  announce  a  law  that,  beginning  with 
such  a  year  and  day,  the  land  will  not  belong  to  any  one 
in  particular,  but  to  the  whole  country,  the  whole  nation, 
and  that,  therefore,  every  one  who  owns  land  must  pay 
the  country  for  it,  that  is,  must  pay  to  the  whole  nation  as 
much  as  it  has  been  valued  at.  This  income  is  to  be  used 
for  all  public  works  of  the  state,  so  that  it  will  take  the 
place  of  all  the  taxes  and  all  domestic  and  foreign  customs 
revenues.  From  this  project  it  would  follow  that  a  landed 
proprietor  who  now  owns  two  thousand  desyatinas  might 
continue  to  own  them,  but  would  have  to  pay  to  the 
treasury,  in  Tvlla  Government,  between  twelve  and  fifteen 
thousand  per  year,  because  there  would  be  in  the  estate 
meadow  and  field  land,  and  not  one  proprietor  would  be 
able  to  make  such  payments,  and  they  would  refuse  to 
hold  the  land.  But  a  Tula  peasant  in  the  same  locahty 
would  pay  about  two  roubles  less  per  desyatina  than  what 
he  is  paying  now,  and  he  would  always  have  free  land 
about  him,  which  he  could  take  at  five  or  six  roubles,  and, 
besides,  he  would  have  to  pay  no  other  taxes,  and  would 
get  all  commodities,  whether  domestic  or  foreign,  without 
paying  any  dues.  In  the  cities  the  owners  of  houses 
and  factories  might  continue  to  own  their  properties,  but 
would  have  to  pay  into  the  common  treasury  for  the  land 
occupied  by  them  to  the  extent  to  which  it  is  valued. 

The  advantage  of  such  an  arrangement  wiU  consist  in 
this: 

(1)  That  there  will  be  no  men  who  are  deprived  of  the 
possibility  of  using  land. 

(2)  That  there  will  be  no  idle  men,  who  own  land  and 
compel  others  to  work  for  the  right  to  use  the  land. 

(3)  That  the  land  will  be  in  the  hands  of  those  who 
work  it,  and  not  of  those  who  do  not  work. 

(4)  That  the  people,  having  the  possibility  of  working 
the  land,  will  no  longer  sell  themselves  into  slavery  in 


TWO    LETTERS    ON    HENRY    GEORGE  401 

the  factories  and  plants,  and  as  servants  in  the  cities,  but 
will  scatter  in  the  country. 

(5)  That  there  will  be  no  inspectors  and  collectors  of 
taxes  in  factories,  establishments,  and  custom-houses,  but 
only  rent-collectors  for  the  land,  which  cannot  be  stolen 
and  from  which  it  is  very  easy  to  collect  the  rent. 

And  (6)  above  all  else,  that  the  people  who  do  not 
work  will  be  free  from  the  sin  of  exploiting  somebody 
else's  labour,  for  which  they  are  frequently  not  to  blame, 
since  they  have  been  brought  up  in  idleness  from  child- 
hood and  do  not  know  how  to  work,  and  from  the  still 
greater  sin  of  every  lie  and  subterfuge  for  justifying  them- 
selves in  this  sin ;  and  that  the  working  people  will  be 
freed  from  the  offence  and  sin  of  envy  and  malice  toward 
the  people  of  leisure,  and  of  condemnation  of  them,  and 
that  one  of  the  causes  of  the  division  of  men  will  be 
destroyed. 

1893  (.?). 


LETTER   TO  A  POLE 

Marian  Edmundovich  :  —  I  have  received  your  letter 
and  have  hastened  to  read  your  article  in  the  Northern 
Messenger.  Thank  you  very  much  for  having  pointed 
it  out  to  me.  The  article  is  beautiful,  and  I  learned  from 
it  much  that  is  new  and  a  joy  to  me.  I  learned  also 
about  Mickiewicz  and  Towiauski.  I  used  to  ascribe  their 
religious  mood  to  the  qualities  which  these  two  people 
alone  possessed,  but  from  your  article  I  learned  that  they 
were  only  the  originators  of  the  true  Christian  movement, 
which,  having  been  evoked  by  patriotism,  continues  until 
the  present  time,  and  is  profoundly  touching  in  its  exalta- 
tion and  sincerity. 

My  article.  Patriotism  and  Christianity,  called  forth 
very  many  retorts.  Philosophers  and  publicists,  Eussian, 
French,  German,  Austrian,  retorted  to  me,  and  so  do  you. 
And  all  the  retorts,  like  yours,  reduce  themselves  to  this, 
that  my  condemnations  of  patriotism  are  just  only  in 
relation  to  bad  patriotism,  but  have  no  foundation,  if 
referred  to  good  and  useful  patriotism ;  but  in  what  this 
good  and  useful  patriotism  consists  and  in  what  way  it 
differs  from  the  bad  patriotism,  no  one  has  so  far  taken 
the  trouble  to  explain. 

You  write  in  your  letter  that  "  besides  the  patriotism 
of  conquest  and  of  the  hatred  of  man,  characteristic  of  the 
powerful  nations,  there  exists  also  an  entirely  different 
patriotism  of  the  enslaved  nations,  who  are  striving  after 
the  defence  of  their  native  faith  and  tongue  against  the 
enemy."     You  define  good  patriotism  by  this  condition 

402 


LETTER  TO  A  POLE  403 

of  oppression.  But  oppression  or  the  power  of  the  nations 
does  not  make  any  ditference  in  the  essence  of  what  is 
called  patriotism.  A  fire  will  always  be  a  burning  and 
dangerous  fire,  whether  it  burns  in  a  pyre  or  glows  in  a 
match.  By  patriotism  is  generally  understood  a  pref- 
erential love  for  one's  own  nation,  just  as  by  egoism  is 
understood  a  preferential  love  for  one's  own  personality. 
It  is  hard  to  imagine  how  such  a  preference  of  one  nation 
over  another  can  be  considered  a  good,  and  so  a  desirable, 
quality.  If  you  say  that  patriotism  is  more  excusable 
in  an  oppressed  person  than  in  the  oppressor,  just  as  the 
manifestation  of  egoism  is  more  excusable  in  a  man  who 
is  being  strangled  than  in  one  who  is  not  troubled  by 
any  one,  it  will  not  be  possible  not  to  agree  with  you ; 
but  patriotism  cannot  change  its  quahty,  according  to 
whether  it  is  manifested  in  the  oppressed  man  or  in  the 
oppressor.  This  quality,  —  the  preference  of  one  nation 
over  all  the  others,  —  Hke  egoism,  can  never  be  good. 

But  patriotism  is  not  only  a  bad  quahty, —  it  is  also 
an  irrational  doctrine. 

By  the  word  "  patriotism  "  is  meant  not  only  an  imme- 
diate, involuntary  love  of  one's  nation  and  preference  of 
it  over  all  the  others,  but  also  the  doctrine  that  such  a 
love  and  preference  are  good  and  useful.  Such  a  doctrine 
is  particularly  irrational  among  the  Christian  nations. 

It  is  irrational,  not  only  because  it  contradicts  the  funda- 
mental meaning  of  Christ's  teaching,  but  also  because 
Christianity,  attaining  in  its  own  way  all  that  toward 
which  patriotism  is  striving,  makes  patriotism  superfluous, 
unnecessary,  and  interfering,  like  a  lamp  in  daylight. 

A  man  who,  like  Krasinski,  beheves  that  "  God's  church 
is  not  this  or  that  place,  not  this  or  that  rite,  but  the 
whole  planet,  and  all  imaginable  relations  of  individuals 
and  nations  among  themselves,"  can  no  longer  be  a  patriot, 
because  he  will  in  the  name  of  Christianity  perform  all 
those  things  which  patriotism  can  ask  of  him.    Patriotism, 


404  LETTER   TO   A   POLE 

for  example,  asks  of  its  disciple  that  he  sacrifice  his  life 
for  the  good  of  his  countrymen  ;  but  Christianity  demands 
a  similar  sacrifice  of  one's  life  for  the  good  of  all  men, 
and  so  such  a  sacrifice  is  so  much  more  natural  for  the 
men  of  one's  own  nation. 

You  write  of  those  terrible  acts  of  violence  which  the 
savage,  stupid,  and  cruel  Eussian  authorities  are  perpetra- 
ting on  the  faith  and  language  of  the  Poles,  and  this  you 
adduce  as  some  kind  of  a  reason  for  a  patriotic  activity. 
But  I  do  not  see  it.  To  be  indignant  at  such  acts  of 
violence  and  to  counteract  them  with  our  whole  might, 
we  need  not  be  a  Pole  or  a  patriot,  but  only  a  Christian. 

In  the  given  case,  for  example,  I,  who  am  not  a  Pole, 
will  vie  with  any  Pole  as  to  the  degree  of  my  disgust  and 
indignation  on  account  of  the  savage  and  stupid  measures 
of  the  people  connected  with  the  government,  which  are 
practised  against  the  faith  and  language  of  the  Poles  ;  I 
will  also  vie  with  any  one  in  the  desire  to  counteract 
these  measures,  not  because  I  love  Catholicism  more  than 
any  other  rehgion,  or  the  Polish  language  more  than  any 
other,  but  because  I  try  to  be  a  Christian.  And  so,  to 
prevent  these  things  from  happening  in  Poland,  ,or  in 
Alsace,  or  in  Bohemia,  we  do  not  need  the  diffusion 
of  patriotism,  but  the  diffusion  of  true  Christianity. 

We  can  say  that  we  do  not  care  to  know  Christianity, 
and  then  we  can  laud  patriotism ;  but  the  moment  we 
recognize  Christianity,  or  even  the  consciousness  of  the 
equality  of  men  and  the  respect  for  human  dignity  which 
arise  from  it,  there  is  no  place  left  for  patriotism.  What 
surprises  me  more  than  anything  else  in  connection  with 
it,  is  this,  how  it  is  that  the  advocates  of  patriotism  in 
the  oppressed  nation,  no  matter  how  perfect  and  refined 
they  may  take  it  to  be,  do  not  see  how  harmful  patriotism 
is  for  their  own  purposes. 

In  the  name  of  what  have  all  these  acts  of  violence 
been  perpetrated  on  language  and  faith  in  Poland,  the 


LETTER    TO    A    POLE  405 

Baltic  Pro\4nces,  Alsace,  Bohemia,  against  the  Jews  in 
Eussia,  wherever  such  acts  have  been  committed  ?  Only 
in  the  name  of  that  patriotism  which  you  defend. 

Ask  our  savage  Eussifiers  of  Poland  and  of  the  Baltic 
Provinces,  and  the  persecutors  of  the  Jews,  why  they  do 
all  that  they  do  ?  They  will  tell  you  that  this  is  done  for 
the  defence  of  their  own  faith  and  language ;  they  will 
tell  you  that,  if  they  do  not  do  so,  they  will  cause  their 
own  faith  and  language  to  suffer,  —  the  Eussians  will 
turn  Poles,  Germans,  Jews. 

If  there  existed  no  doctrine  as  to  patriotism  being  some- 
thing good,  there  would  never  exist,  at  the  end  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  men  so  base  as  to  have  courage  to  do 
all  the  base  things  which  they  are  doing  now. 

But  now  the  learned  —  the  most  savage  persecutor  of 
faith  in  your  country  is  an  ex-professor  —  have  a  point 
of  support  in  patriotism.  They  know  history,  they  know 
about  all  those  useless  horrors  of  the  persecutions  of 
language  and  faith,  but  thanks  to  the  doctrine  about 
patriotism,  they  have  a  justification. 

Patriotism  gives  them  a  point  of  support,  while  Chris- 
tianity takes  it  away  from  under  their  feet,  And  so  the 
conquered  nations,  which  are  suffering  from  oppression, 
must  destroy  patriotism,  tear  down  its  theoretical  founda- 
tions, ridicule  it,  and  not  extol  it. 

In  defending  patriotism,  people  speak  of  the  individu- 
ality of  the  nationalities,  saying  that  patriotism  has  for 
its  aim  the  salvation  of  the  individuahty  of  the  nation, 
and  the  individuahty  of  the  nations  is  assumed  as  an 
indispensable  condition  of  progress.  But,  in  the  first 
place,  who  has  said  that  this  individuality  is  an  indis- 
pensable condition  of  progress  ?  This  has  not  been  proved 
in  any  way,  and  we  have  no  right  to  accept  this  arbitrary 
proposition  as  an  axiom.  In  the  second  place,  even  if  we 
admit  that  this  is  so,  the  nation's  means  for  manifesting 
its  individuality  will  not  consist  in  trying  to  manifest  it, 


406  LETTER    TO    A    POLE 

but,  on  the  contrary,  in  forgetting  its  individuality  and 
employing  all  its  forces  to  do  what  it  feels  itself  most  com- 
petent to  do  and  most  destined  for,  just  as  the  individual 
man  will  manifest  his  individuality,  not  by  caring  for  it, 
but  by  forgetting  it  and  employiag  all  his  forces  and  abil- 
ities in  doing  that  toward  which  he  is  drawn  by  his  nature. 
It  is  the  same  as  that  people  who  are  working  for  the 
support  of  their  community  should  be  doing  all  kinds  of 
work  in  all  kinds  of  places.  Let  each  do  what  is  most 
necessary  for  the  community,  according  to  the  best  of 
his  strength  and  knowledge,  and  let  him  work  with 
all  his  might,  and  they  will  all  involuntarily  work  dif- 
ferently with  different  instruments  and  in  different 
places. 

One  of  the  most  common  of  the  sophisms  which  are 
used  for  the  defence  of  what  is  immoral  consists  in  inten- 
tionally confusing  what  is  with  what  ought  to  be,  and  in 
beginning  to  speak  of  one  thing  and  then  substituting 
another  for  it.  This  sophism  is  most  frequently  employed 
in  relation  to  patriotism.  It  is  this,  that  a  Pole  is  nearer 
and  dearer  than  any  one  else  to  a  Pole,  a  German  to  a 
German,  a  RuSvSian  to  a  Eussian.  We  have  also-  this, 
that  in  consequence  of  historical  causes  and  bad  edu- 
cation, the  men  of  one  nation  experience  unconsciously 
ill-will  toward  the  people  of  another  nation.  All  this 
exists,  but  the  recognition  of  what  exists,  like  the  rec- 
ognition of  the  fact  that  every  man  loves  himself  more 
than  any  one  else,  can  nowise  prove  that  this  must  be  so. 
On  the  contrary  :  the  whole  work  of  all  humanity  and 
of  every  individual  man  consists  only  in  suppressing  these 
predilections  and  ill-wills,  in  struggling  against  them,  and 
in  acting  consciously  toward  other  nations  and  toward  the 
people  of  other  nations  just  as  one  would  act  in  relation 
to  his  countrymen.  It  is  quite  superfluous  for  us  to  trouble 
ourselves  about  patriotism,  as  about  a  feeling  which  it  is 
desirable  to  educate  in  everv  man.     God,  or  Nature,  has 


LETTER  TO  A  POLE 


407 


without  us  takeu  care  of  this  feeling  so  that  it  is  inherent 
in  every  man,  and  we  have  no  need  to  trouble  ourselves 
about  educating  it  in  ourselves  and  in  others.  What  we 
ought  to  trouble  ourselves  about  is  not  patriotism,  but 
how  to  introduce  into  life  the  light  which  is  within  us, 
and  thus  to  change  it  and  bring  it  nearer  to  the  ideal 
which  stands  before  us.  Tliis  ideal,  which  at  the  present 
time  is  standing  before  every  man,  who  is  enlightened 
with  the  true  light  of  Christ,  does  not  consist  in  the  rees- 
tablishment  of  Poland,  Bohemia,  Ireland,  Armenia,  and 
not  in  the  preservation  of  the  unity  and  greatness  of  Eus- 
sia,  England,  Germany,  Austria,  but,  on  the  contrary,  m 
the  destruction  of  this  unity  and  greatness  of  Russia,  Eng- 
land, and  Germany,  in  the  abohtion  of  all  those  force- 
using,  anti-Christian  combinations,  called  states,  which 
are  in  the  way  of  all  true  progress  and  beget  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  oppressed  and  vanquished  nations,  —  all  that 
evil,  from  which  modern  humanity  is  suffering.  This 
destruction  is  possible  only  through  real  enlightenment, 
through  the  recognition  that,  before  being  Russians,  Poles, 
Germans,  we  are  men,  disciples  of  the  same  teacher,  the 
sons  of  the  same  father,  brothers  among  ourselves,  —  and 
this  was  understood  by  the  best  representatives  of  the 
PoKsh  people,  as  you  have  beautifully  shown  in  your  arti- 
cle. And  this  is  from  day  to  day  understood  by  an  ever 
greater  number  of  men. 

Thus  the  days  of  governmental  violence  are  counted, 
and  the  liberation  of  not  only  the  conquered  nations,  but 
also  of  the  oppressed  labourers  is  near,  if  we  ourselves  are 
not  going  to  defer  the  time  of  this  hberation  by  partici- 
pating in  w^ords  and  deeds  in  the  governments'  acts  of 
violence.  But  the  recognition  of  patriotism,  no  matter 
of  what  kind,  as  a  good  quahty,  and  the  incitement  of  the 
nation  to  it,  are  among  the  chief  impediments  in  the  attain- 
ment of  the  ideals  which  are  standing  before  us. 

I  thank  you  once  more  for  your  kind  letter,  and  the 


408  LETTER   TO   A   POLE 

excellent  article,  and  for  the  opportunity  which  you  gave 
me  once  more  to  verify,  think  out,  and  express  my  ideas 
on  patriotism.     Accept  the  assurance  of  my  respect. 
September  10, 1896. 


RELATION  TO  THE    GOVERNMENT    AND    THE 
EXISTING  ORDER 


(From  a  private  letter,  1896) 

The  existing  order  of  life  is  subject  to  destruction. 
This  is  admitted  both  by  those  who  strive  to  destroy  it 
and  those  who  defend  it. 

The  competitive  order  is  to  be  destroyed  and  to  give 
way  to  the  communistic;  the  capitalistic  order  is  to  be 
destroyed  and  to  give  way  to  the  socialistic ;  the  order  of 
militarism  is  to  be  destroyed  and  to  give  way  to  disarma- 
ment and  arbitration  ;  the  separatism  of  the  narrow  nation- 
ality is  to  be  destroyed  and  to  give  way  to  cosmopolitism 
and  a  universal  brotherhood ;  all  religious  superstitions 
are  to  be  destroyed  and  to  give  way  to  a  rational  religious, 
moral  consciousness ;  every  kind  of  despotism  is  to  be  des- 
troyed and  to  give  way  to  liberty  ;  in  short,  violence  is 
to  be  destroyed  and  to  give  way  to  a  free  and  loving  union 
of  men. 

So  far  two  means  have  been  employed  for  the  attain- 
ment of  all  these  ends,  —  the  first,  the  violent  revolutions, 
the  overthrow  of  the  men  who  supported  the  undesirable 
order,  and  the  substitution  of  others,  who  were  to  estab- 
lish a  new,  desirable  order  of  life ;  and  the  other,  which, 
without  destroying  the  existing  order,  and  entering  into 
the  ranks  of  the  government,  consists  in  slowly  and  by 
degrees  obtaining  that  change  of  the  existing  order  which 
13  demanded  by  the  human  consciousness  of  our  time. 

409 


410  RELATION    TO    THE    GOVERNMENT 

The  first  method  does  not  attain  its  end,  because,  in 
the  first  place,  every  violent  destruction  of  the  existing 
order  evokes  in  the  majority  of  indifferent  people  a  reac- 
tion, a  desire  at  all  costs  to  retain  the  existing  order,  and 
even  the  one  which  existed  before,  when  there  were  no 
perturbations,  and  so  it  calls  forth  a  reaction,  which  only 
removes  the  attainment  of  the  end.  In  the  second  place, 
because  the  men  who  enter  into  the  power,  while  retaining 
the  old  governmental  machine  of  violence,  very  soon  be- 
come just  as  despotic,  sometimes  even  more  despotic  than 
those  which  are  overthrown.  (The  reaction  of  the  great 
French  Eevolution  against  the  despotism  of  the  royal 
power,  the  Napoleonic  reaction  and  that  of  the  year  '15, 
the  reactions  after  the  years  '30,  '48,  and  '81  in  Eussia, 
and  now  the  reaction  after  the  anarchistic  explosions  and 
murders  in  France.) 

The  second  method,  which  consists  in  changing  the 
government,  by  taking  part  in  it  and  improving  it,  still 
less  attains  its  end,  because  not  only  the  men  who  enter 
into  the  ranks  of  the  government  without  the  aim  of  a 
gradual  improvement  of  the  existing  order,  but  also  those 
who  recognize  the  government  and  enjoy  the  advantages 
of  the  government  only  in  order  to  be  able  to  modify  and 
improve  it,  imperceptibly  to  themselves,  very  soon  and  in- 
evitably (because  their  whole  life  is  based  on  governmental 
violence)  become,  not  only  no  correctors  and  changers  of 
the  government's  violence,  but  even  the  most  ardent  de- 
fenders of  the  same.  It  is  the  same  as  though  a  man  who 
undertakes  to  mend  a  boat  should  sit  down  in  it  and  row. 

In  the  course  of  several  generations  men,  having  come 
to  see  the  falseness  of  their  situation,  have  been  trying  to 
change  it,  now  with  one  means,  and  now  with  another, 
but  neither  means  produces  any  effect,  and  the  situation 
is  growing  worse  and  worse. 

There  exists  one  means  for  the  attainment  of  this  end, 
—  a  very  simple  and  natural  means,  which  consists  in 


RELATION"    TO    THE    GOVERNMENT  411 

leaving  the  state  and  the  government  alone  and  not  think- 
ing of  them,  but  in  thinking  only  of  out  hfe,  in  elucidating 
to  ourselves  the  end  and  significance  of  our  life,  and  in 
leading  our  life  in  conformity  with  the  elucidated  con- 
sciousness. And,  strange  to  say,  this  means  —  which 
entirely  leaves  out  the  questions  about  state,  government, 
society  —  is  the  only  one  which  solves  (and  in  the  most 
incontestable  manner  at  that)  all  the  political,  govern- 
mental, and  social  questions. 

This  means,  in  relation  to  the  political,  governmental, 
and  social  questions,  consists,  instead  of  forcibly  destroy- 
ing the  existing  order  of  life,  or,  with  the  desire  to  destroy 
or  change  it,  building  our  life  upon  it,  in  the  simplest 
kind  of  a  method,  which,  it  would  seem,  would  be  the  first 
to  occur  to  people,  —  namely,  in  taking  no  part  in  that 
violence-using  structure  of  hfe  which  we  deny  and  wish 
to  change. 

In  order  not  to  take  part  in  this  violence-using  and 
false  structure  of  hfe,  we  must  (1)  clearly  understand  the 
meaning  and  destiny  of  our  life,  (2)  clearly  understand 
what  in  our  hfe  corresponds  to  the  destiny  of  our  life, 
and  (3)  know  those  means  with  which  it  is  possible  for 
us  to  harmonize  our  life  with  the  demands  of  our  con- 
sciousness, 

2 
(From  the  diary  of  1895) 

The  situation  of  the  majority  of  men,  enlightened  with 
a  true  enlightenment  of  brotherly  love,  who  are  now  sup- 
pressed by  the  deceit  and  cunning  of  the  violators,  through 
their  compelling  this  majority  to  ruin  itself,  is  terrible 
and  seems  hopeless. 

Only  two  ways  out  present  themselves,  and  both  are 
closed :  one  consists  in  rending  violence  by  means  of  vio- 
lence, terrorism,  dynamite  bombs,  daggers,  as  did  our 
nihilists  and  anarchists,  —  outside  of  us  to  break  up  that 


412     RELATION  TO  THE  GOVERNMENT 

plot  of  the  governments  against  the  nations  ;  or  to  enter 
into  a  concerted  action  with  the  government,  making  con- 
cessions to  it,  and,  taking  part  in  it,  slowly  to  disentangle 
tlie  net  which  binds  the  nation,  and  to  free  it.  Both  ways 
out  are  closed. 

Dynamite  and  the  dagger,  as  experience  shows  us,  only 
provoke  reaction,  impair  the  most  precious  force,  —  the 
only  one  which  is  in  our  power,  —  public  opinion. 

The  other  way  out  is  closed  because  the  governments 
have  already  found  out  to  what  extent  the  participation 
of  people  wishing  to  transform  it  should  be  admitted. 
They  allow  only  that  which  does  not  impair  the  essen- 
tials, and  are  very  sensitive  in  regard  to  what  is  detri- 
mental for  them,  —  they  are  sensitive,  because  their 
existence  is  at  stake.  They  admit  people  who  do  not 
agree  with  them  and  who  wish  to  reform  the  govern- 
ments, not  only  in  order  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  these 
people,  but  for  their  own  sakes,  for  the  sake  of  the  gov- 
ernments. These  people  would  be  dangerous  to  the 
governments  if  they  were  left  outside  the  governments 
and  rose  against  them,  by  influencing  the  only,  most  pow- 
erful governmental  instrument,  —  public  opinion,  —  and 
so  they  have  to  make  these  men  harmless,  attract  them  by 
means  of  concessions,  made  by  the  government,  —  they 
must  make  them  harmless,  something  like  the  microbe 
cultures,  —  and  then  only  use  them  for  the  purpose  of 
serving  the  government's  ends,  that  is,  for  the  purpose 
of  oppressing  and  exploiting  the  masses. 

Both  ways  out  are  solidly  and  impermeably  closed. 
What  is  left  ? 

It  is  impossible  to  break  open  a  way  with  violence, — 
you  only  increase  the  reaction ;  equally  impossible  it  is 
to  enter  the  ranks  of  the  government,  —  one  becomes  a 
tool  of  the  government.  One  thing  is  left,  —  to  struggle 
against  the  government  with  the  instrument  of  thought, 
of  words,  of  acts,  —  of  life,  without  making  any  conces- 


RELATION    TO    THE    GOVERNMENT  413 

sions  to  it,  without  entering  its  ranks,  without  increasing 
its  force  through  us. 

This  one  thing  is  necessary  and  will  certainly  be  suc- 
cessful.    And  God  w^ants  it,  and  Christ  taught  it. 


(From  the  diary  of  1895) 

We  have  come  to  such  a  pass  that  a  simply  good  and 
sensible  man  cannot  be  a  partaker  in  the  government, 
that  is,  cannot  be  one  —  I  am  not  speaking  of  Kussia  — 
cannot  in  England  be  one  with  the  landownership,  the 
exploitation  of  the  factories  and  capitahsts,  the  orders  in 
India,  the  flogging,  the  opium  trade,  the  annihilation  of 
nationalities  in  Africa,  the  preparations  for  war,  and  the 
wars  themselves. 

And  the  point  of  support,  when  a  man  says,  "  I  do  not 
know  anything  about  the  government,  and  I  do  not  care 
to  know ;  but  I  know  that  I  cannot  live  contrary  to  my 
conscience,"  —  that  point  of  view  is  imperturbable,  and 
upon  it  ought  all  the  men  of  our  time  to  stand,  in  order 
to  move  life  forward.  "  I  know  what  my  conscience 
commands  me  to  do,  but  you,  people  who  are  busy  with 
the  government,  arrange  the  government  as  you  wish,  so 
that  it  may  correspond  to  the  demands  of  the  conscience 
of  the  people  of  our  time." 

Meanwhile  the  people  occupy  the  standpoint  of  the 
correction  and  improvement  of  the  governmental  forms, 
and  thus,  by  recognizing  the  necessity  of  the  government, 
lose  their  imperturbable  point  of  support. 


LETTER  TO  THE  MINISTER  OF  INTERNAL   AF- 
FAIRS AND  TO  THE  MINISTER  OF  JUSTICE 

Dear  Sir  :  —  I  write  to  you,  as  man  to  man,  with  a  feel- 
ing of  respect  and  good-will,  which  I  ask  you  to  show 
also  to  my  letter.  Comprehension  and  agreement  are  pos- 
sible only  when  these  sentiments  are  sincere. 

What  I  have  in  mind  is  the  persecutions  to  which  the 
officers  of  your  ministry  subject  such  persons  as  have  my 
writings  which  are  prohibited  in  Russia,  and  give  them  to 
read  to  those  who  ask  for  them.  So  far  as  I  know,  many 
different  persons  have  been  subjected  to  such  persecutions. 
One  of  the  latest  cases  was  that  of  a  lady  physician,  Mrs. 

N ,  of  Tula,  who  was  searched  and  put  in  jail,  and 

now  is  under  trial  before  the  investigating  magistrate, 
being  accused  of  spreading  my  writings. 

This  case  of  Mrs.  N ,  who  is  no  longer  a  young 

woman,  and  is  of  feeble  health,  extremely  nervous,  and 
highly  respectable  as  regards  her  spiritual  qualities,  which 
have  earned  her  the  love  of  all  those  who  know  her,  is 
particularly  striking. 

So  far  as  I  know,  this  is  what  served  as  the  cause  of  it : 

Mrs.  N is  a  good  acquaintance  of  mine  and  a  friend  of 

my  daughters.  A  Tula  labourer  wrote  to  me  several 
times,  asking  me  to  give  him  my  work.  My  Religion, 
to  read.  As  I  did  not  have  a  copy  of  it  to  spare  and  did 
not  know  the  man,  I  left  several  of  his  letters  unan- 
swered. When  this  winter  I  again  received  a  letter  from 
him,  asking  for  the  same,  I  turned  the  letter  over  to  my 
daughter,  asking  her,  if  she  had  the  book  for  which  he 

414 


LETTER    TO    THE    MINISTERS  415 

asked,  to  send  it  to  him.     My  daughter,  who  did  not 

have  a  copy  to  spare  and  recalled  the  fact  that  Mrs.  !M 

lived  in  the  same  city  of  Tula,  from  which  the  petitioner 
had  written,  and  had  some  of  my  forbidden  writings,  sent 
the  petitioner  her  card,  %\ith  the  request  that  the  bearer 
be  given  whatever  she  had.    This  request  of  my  daughter, 

addressed  to  Mrs.  X ,  served  as  a  cause  for  her  arrest 

and  for  all  those  torments  to  which  she  has  been  sub- 
jected. 

I  tliink  that  such  measures  are  irrational,  useless,  cruel, 
and,  above  all,  unjust.  They  are  irrational,  because  there 
is  no  explanation,  and  there  can  be  none,  why,  out  of  those 
thousands  of  people  who  have  my  writings  and  give  them 

to  their  friends  to  read,  this  one  Mrs.  N should  be 

selected  for  persecution.  These  measures  are  useless, 
because  they  attain  no  end:  they  do  not  stop  anything, 
because  the  evil  which  it  is  supposed  to  stop  continues  to 
exist  among  thousands  of  men,  whom  it  is  impossible 
to  have  all  arrested  and  kept  in  prisons.  These  measures 
are  cruel,  because  for  many  feeble  and  nervous  people, 

such  as  Mrs.   N is,  domiciliary  visits,  inquests,  and 

especially  imprisonment,  may  be  the  causes  of  severe  nerv- 
ous diseases,  as  was  the  case  with  Mrs.  N ,  and  even 

of  death.  Above  all  else,  these  measures  are  in  the  liigh- 
est  degree  unjust,  because  they  are  not  directed  against 
the  person  from  which  proceeds  that  which  by  the  gov- 
ernment is  considered  to  be  an  evil. 

Such  a  person  in  the  given  case  am  I :  I  write  those 
books,  and  in  writing  and  through  oral  intercourse  dis- 
seminate those  ideas  which  the  government  considers  to 
be  an  evil,  and  so,  if  the  government  wants  to  counteract 
the  dissemination  of  this  evil,  it  must  direct  upon'  me  all 
the  measures  now  used  by  it  against  those  persons  who 
accidentally  fall  under  its  influence,  and  who  are  guilty 
but  of  this,  that  they  have  some  forbidden  books  in  which 
they  are  interested,  and  that  they  give  these  to  their 


416  LETTER   TO    THE   MINISTERS 

friends  to  read.  The  government  ought  to  act  thus  also 
for  this  other  reason,  that  I  not  only  do  not  conceal  this 
my  activity,  but,  on  the  contrary,  in  this  very  letter 
announce  that  I  have  written  and  dissemmated  those 
books  which  are  considered  harmful  by  the  government, 
and  that  I  continue  to  write  and  disseminate,  in  books, 
in  letters,  and  in  conversations,  just  such  ideas  as  those 
which  are  expressed  in  my  books. 

The  essence  of  these  ideas  is  this,  that  the  unquestion- 
able law  of  God,  which  stands  higher  than  all  human 
laws,  was  revealed  to  men ;  according  to  it  we  must  all 
stop  warring  and  doing  violence  to  one  another,  and 
should,  on  the  contrary,  aid  one  another,  —  we  must  act 
toward  others  as  we  would  have  others  act  toward  us. 

These  ideas,  with  the  practical  deductions  from  them, 
I  have  expressed  in  my  books,  and  am  trying  still  more 
clearly  and  more  accessibly  to  express  in  a  book  which  I 
am  writing  now.  The  same  ideas  I  express  in  conversa- 
tions and  in  letters  which  I  write  to  friends  and  to 
strangers.  The  same  ideas  I  express  even  now  to  you, 
in  pointing  out  those  cruelties  and  acts  of  violence,  which 
are  contrary  to  God  and  which  are  committed  by-  the 
officers  of  your  ministry. 

Gamaliel's  words,  which  were  said  concerning  the  dis- 
semination of  the  Christian  teaching,  *•'  If  this  thing  is 
from  men,  it  will  be  destroyed,  and  if  it  is  from  God,  you 
cannot  destroy  it ;  beware,  therefore,  lest  you  become  an 
adversary  of  God,"  will  always  remain  a  lesson  of  true 
governmental  wisdom  in  its  relation  to  the  manifesta- 
tion of  the  spiritual  activity  of  men.  If  this  activity  is 
spurious,  it  falls  of  itself ;  if  it  has  God's  work  for  its 
contents,  like  that  God's  work  of  our  time  which  strives 
to  substitute  the  principle  of  rational  love  for  that  of 
violence,  no  external  conditions  can  either  accelerate  or 
retard  its  completion.  If  the  government  shall  permit 
the  unhampered  dissemination  of  these  ideas,  they  will 


LETTER    TO    THE    MINISTERS  417 

spread  slowly  and  evenly ;  if  the  government  shall,  as  it 
does  now,  subject  to  persecution  those  men  who  have 
made  these  ideas  their  own  and  transmit  them  to  others, 
the  dissemination  of  these  ideas  will  be  diminished  amidst 
timid,  weak,  and  unsettled  men  to  the  extent  to  which  it 
will  be  intensitied  amoug  strong,  energetic,  and  settled 
men.  And  so  the  process  of  the  dissemination  of  the 
truth  will  not  stop  or  be  arrested  or  be  accelerated,  no 
matter  how  the  government  may  act. 

Such,  in  my  opinion,  is  the  general  and  invariable  law 
of  the  dissemination  of  truth,  and  so  the  wisest  thing  the 
government  can  do  in  relation  to  the  manifestation  of  un- 
desirable ideas  is  not  to  undertake  anything,  still  more, 
not  to  use  such  unworthy,  cruel,  and  obviously  unjust 
measures  as  the  tormenting  of  people,  only  because  they 
are  doing  what  tens  of  thousands  of  men  have  been 
doing,  without  being  persecuted  for  it. 

But  if  the  government  insists  on  not  being  inactive,  and 
on  punishing,  threatening,  and  abating  what  it  considers 
to  be  an  evil,  the  least  irrational  and  the  least  unjust 
thing  it  can  do  consists  in  directing  all  the  measures  for 
punishing,  threatening,  and  abating  the  evil  against  what 
by  the  government  is  considered  to  be  its  source,  that  is, 
against  me,  the  more  so,  since  I  declare  in  advance  that 
I  will  continue  without  cessation  to  do  until  my  death 
what  the  government  considers  to  be  an  evil,  but  what  I 
consider  to  be  niy  sacred  duty  before  God. 

Do  not  imagine,  I  beg  you,  that  in  asking  you  to 
direct  against  me  the  measures  of  violence  which  have 
been  employed  against  some  of  my  acquaintances,  I 
assume  that  the  employment  of  such  measures  against  me 
presents  any  difficulties  for  the  government,  —  that  my 
popularity  and  my  social  standing  defend  me  against 
domiciliary  visits,  inquests,  deportation,  imprisonment, 
and  other  worse  acts  of  violence.  Not  only  do  I  not 
think  so,  but  I  am  also  convinced  that  if  the  government 


418  LETTER    TO    THE    MINISTERS 

shall  act  with  determiuation  against  me,  will  deport  or 
imprison  me,  or  will  apply  even  severer  measures,  this 
will  not  offer  any  especial  difficulties,  and  public  opinion 
will  not  be  provoked,  nay,  the  majority  of  men  will  fully 
approve  of  such  a  mode  of  action  and  will  say  that  that 
ought  to  have  been  done  long  ago. 

God  knows  that,  writing  this  letter,  I  am  not  submit- 
ting to  any  desire  to  dare  the  government  or  to  have 
something  to  say,  but  that  it  is  called  forth  by  a  moral 
necessity  which  consists  in  taking  the  guilt  ofl^  innocent 
people  for  acts  committed  by  me,  and,  above  all,  is  written 
in  order  to  point  out  to  the  members  of  the  government, 
you  among  the  number,  the  cruelty,  irrationality,  and 
injustice  of  the  measures  employed,  and  to  ask  you,  to 
the  best  of  your  ability,  to  put  a  stop  to  them  and  to  free 
yourself  of  the  moral  responsibility  for  them. 

I  shall  be  very  thankful  to  you,  if  you  shall  answer  me 
with  a  simple  unofficial  letter,  telling  me  what  you  think 
of  what  I  have  expressed,  and  whether  you  will  fulfil  my 
prayer,  which  is,  that  in  the  future  you  will  transfer  all 
the  persecutions,  if  they  are  indispensable,  to  me,  from 
the  government's  standpoint  the  chief  offender. 

With  the  feeling  of  sincere  good-will,  I  remain  respect- 
fully yours. 

Moscow,  A])ril  20, 1896. 


ON  THE  DECEPTION   OF   THE   CHURCH 

I  HATE  received  and  continue  to  receive  your  numerous 

letters,  dear ,  and  I  should  like  to  answer  in  detail 

what  to  me  is  the  most  important  part  in  them. 

I  think  it  superfluous  to  reply  to  your  unjust  assump- 
tions that  (1)  I  am  angry  at  you,  (2)  that  I  think  that 
our  life  ends  here,  (3)  that  I  may  and  must  be  worried 
by  the  financial  help  to  some  (selected  by  you  out  of 
niilhons  of  just  such  people,  who  surround  me),  because 
all  these  replies  have  been  made  by  me  in  advance  in  my 
writings  with  as  great  a  circumstantiality  as  I  am  capable 
of.  (I  send  you  a  collection  of  my  writings.)  In  my 
prohibited  writings,  you  know,  you  will  find  these  an- 
swers. 

I  cannot  be  angry  at  you,  because,  above  all,  I  love  you, 
and  so  I  should  myself  like  to  help  you  in  your  hard  and 
dangerous  situation.  I  am  speaking  of  your  desire  to 
hypnotize  yourself  into  the  ecclesiastic  faith.  This  is 
very  dangerous,  because  with  such  hypnotization  that 
which  is  most  precious  in  man  —  his  reason  —  is  lost. 

I  shall  begin  from  the  beginning.  I  began  this  letter 
before  receiving  the  letter  about  Isaak  Sirin  with  the 
copy  of  the  declaration  to  the  governor,  and  this  letter  of 
yours  and  the  declaration  still  more  provoked  in  me  the 
desire,  and  called  out  in  me  the  consciousness  of  my  duty 
to  try  to  help  you,  and,  I  will  say  frankly,  not  you  alone, 
but  many  people,  who  are  in  the  same  situation  with  you, 
or  are  about  to  enter  into  it.  I  am  speaking  of  sincere, 
pure  men,  who  adopt  this  or  that  conviction,  not  in  order 

419 


420        ON    TUE    DECEPTION    OF    THE    CHURCH 

to  justify  their  situation,  but  only  because  they  see  the 
truth  in  it. 

One  day  a  very  rich  and  distinguished  lady  of  the 
court,  speaking  of  faith,  told  me  that  she  believed  like 
"  Mother  Akulina,"  and  she  apparently  thought  that  she 
had  said  something  very  clever  and  even  profound :  such 
a  refined  lady,  and  she  condescends  to  believe  hke  Mother 
Akulina.  But  she  not  only  said  something  stupid,  but 
even  told  an  absolute  untruth. 

This  lady  is  educated  in  all  kinds  of  languages,  has 
studied  cosmography,  history,  knows  of  the  existence  of 
Voltaire,  Renan,  Brahminism,  Buddhism,  Confucianism, 
and  so  she  cannot  believe  like  Mother  Akulina.  Mother 
Akulina,  in  her  behef  in  the  Mother,  the  Queen  of 
Heaven,  and  in  Saint  Nicholas,  and  in  the  Father,  the 
King  of  Heaven,  who  lives  in  heaven,  and  so  forth,  believes 
in  the  highest  that  has  been  reached  by  her  consciousness, 
and  this  belief  not  only  does  not  present  any  contradic- 
tion with  her  comprehension  of  life,  but  even  illuminates 
and  elucidates  for  her  the  phenomena  of  the  world.  For 
the  lady  this  is  impossible.  She  knows  that  the  world 
was  not  created  six  thousand  years  ago  ;  that  mankind,  has 
not  been  derived  from  Adam  and  Eve,  but  from  the  evo- 
lution of  the  animal ;  she  knows  that,  besides  the  Chris- 
tians of  her  denomination,  there  are  five  times  as  many 
people  of  other  faiths  than  the  Christian ;  she  knows  that 
Christianity  has  been  corrupted  and  has  brought  forth 
hundreds  and  thousands  of  inimical  sects,  and  has  degen- 
erated into  the  Inquisition  and  into  savage  fanaticism; 
she  knows  how  the  ecumenical  councils,  in  which  the 
dogmas  were  established,  took  place ;  she  knows  that 
the  same  happened  in  Buddhism  with  their  King  Asoka, 
and  in  other  faiths;  she  knows  that  the  religions  are 
subject  to  the  same  law  of  evolution  as  organisms  and 
states,  —  they  are  born,  develop,  reach  the  highest  point, 
and  then  grow  old  and  disappear,  like  the  Egyptian  and 


ON   THE    DECEPTION    OF    THE    CHUKCH        421 

the  Persian  religions ;  she  knows  that  our  so-called  Holy 
Scripture  did  not  come  down  from  heaven,  but  was-  writ- 
ten by  men,  was  purged  and  corrupted,  and  so  cannot  have 
any  infallible  authority ;  she  knows  that  there  is  no  firm 
heaven,  and  that,  therefore,  neither  Enoch,  nor  Elijah, 
nor  Christ  had  any  place  to  go  to,  when  they  flew  away 
from  the  earth,  and  that,  if  they  flew  upwards,  they  are 
flying  still ;  she  knows  that  all  those  miracles  with  which 
they  try  to  prove  the  authenticity  of  the  ecclesiastic  faith 
are  repeated  in  all  the  other  faiths,  —  such  as  the  birth 
from  a  virgin,  and  the  signs  at  birth,  and  the  prophecy 
and  the  wisdom  in  childbood,  and  the  cures,  and  the 
resurrection,  and  everything  else,  —  that  all  these  inven- 
tions of  miracles  are  repeated  in  all  the  faiths,  just  as 
are  the  miracles  of  the  exploits  of  the  heroes  in  the  popu- 
lar epos.  The  lady  must  know  all  that,  because  she  has 
been  taught  all  that,  and  she  could  have  read  all  that  in 
books,  which  are  accessible  to  her,  and  all  that  is  known 
to  those  gentlemen  who  frequent  her  drawing-room. 

And  so  she  not  only  has  no  right  to  believe  like  Mother 
Akuliua,  but  even  cannot  believe  like  her.  She  can  say 
that  she  beheves  so,  but  she  cannot  believe  so.  For  her 
to  believe,  she  needs  a  faith  in  which  she  could,  like  that 
woman,  believe  as  in  the  highest  reached  by  her  cogni- 
tion, and  a  faith  which  would  not  only  not  contradict  her 
comprehension  of  the  phenomena  of  the  w^orld,  but  w^ould 
also  illumine,  elucidate,  and  unify  all  her  knowdedge. 

This  lady  will  not  understand  me,  because  she  needs 
the  faith  of  Mother  Akulina,  in  order  that  she  may  be 
able  to  continue  to  live  as  she  does,  that  is,  impiously 
to  swallow  every  day,  for  the  gratification  of  her  lusts 
and  luxury,  the  labour  of  hundreds  of  w^orking  people,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  to  speak  of  God  and  Christ  and  of  her 
religiousness.  Only  by  adopting  and  professing  the  faith 
of  Mother  Akulina,  in  other  words,  the  faith  of  men  who 
lived  two  thousand  years  ago,  can  she  lead  such  an  im- 


422        ON    THE    DECEPTION    OF    THE    CHURCH 

pious  life  with  the  self-contentment  of  religiousness.  And 
so  I  can  understand  it  in  the  case  of  the  lady ;  but  what 
do  you,  who  are  deported  to  the  end  of  the  world  and 
who  are  going  from  one  prison  to  another,  and  from  place 
to  place,  because  you  want  to  introduce  the  Christian 
truths  into  life,  what  do  you  want  with  this  terrible  decep- 
tion and  with  this  insolvable  contradiction  between  your 
beliefs  and  your  knowledge  and  comprehension  of  the  phe- 
nomena of  the  universe  ? 

Just  think  what  you  profess  and  what  situation  you 
are  in.  I  understand,  it  is  very  nice  and  agreeable  to 
feel  one  in  faith  with  those  who  surround  us,  when  the 
bells  toll  the  "  hours  "  at  Lent,  and  the  communicants  go 
and  ask  each  other's  forgiveness,  and  beautifully  pray  in 
beautiful  churches,  calling  forth  images  of  the  ancient, 
peaceful,  solemn  life,  —  it  would  be  very  nice  to  be  united 
with  them  and  to  live  that  life.  But  that  is  a  self-de- 
ception,—  it  is  only  the  playing  of  a  part.  But  your 
situation  is  not  this,  that  you  now,  at  Lent,  are  in  Pudozh, 
but  that  you  are  living  in  God's  world,  upon  the  planet 
Earth,  which  is  inhabited  by  fifteen  thousand  milhons  of 
inhabitants  of  all  kinds  of  races,  who  profess  different 
religions,  in  this  one  hundred  thousandth  year  or  so  after 
the  appearance  of  the  first  men,  —  in  one  of  the  corners 
of  the  northern  hemisphere,  amidst  a  nation  called  Eus- 
sian,  and  you  live  in  this  place  and  in  this  time  by  the 
will  of  God,  the  one  by  whose  will  not  only  this  planet 
Earth  exists  with  its  inhabitants,  but  also  this  to  me 
obviously  infinite  world.  You  know  this  position  of  yours, 
and  in  conformity  with  this  position  you  ought  to  estab- 
lish your  relation  to  God,  that  is,  to  establish  a  relation 
which  would  be  just  as  good  for  any  man  in  your  situa- 
tion, —  a  relation  which  would  be  clear,  comprehensible, 
and  obligatory  for  every  thinking  person,  a  Japanese,  a 
Malay,  a  Zulu. 

And  what  relation  to  God  are  you,  with  your  knowledge, 


ON    THE    DECEPTION    OF    THE    CHURCH        423 

trying  to  establish  ?  You  say  :  '■'  God  revealed  Himself 
and  His  truth  five  thousand  years  ago  to  one  small  Asiatic 
nation,  and  not  completely  at  that :  nineteen  hundred 
years  ago  He  revealed  it  in  full,  in  that  He  sent  His  son, 
also  God,  to  the  same  little  nation.  And  the  fact  that  the 
people  then  killed  this  son  of  God  caused  the  sin  of  the 
first  men  and  of  all  those  who  came  after  to  be  redeemed. 
But  besides  this  redemption,  God  through  this  son  of  His 
established  the  church,  which  guards  the  whole  truth  and 
aids  in  the  salvation  of  men  by  means  of  sacraments,  — 
by  smearing  one  with  oil,  giving  one  bread  and  wine  to 
swallow,  —  and  this  church  exists  only  in  Pudozh  or  in 
Eussia ;  but  all  men  who  have  lived  before  this  church 
and  who  live  outside  of  it  are  not  taken  into  consider- 
ation." 

Tell  this,  and  many  other  things  about  baptism,  im- 
ages, masses  for  the  dead,  and,  above  all,  about  a  pun- 
ishing and  redeeming  God,  to  some  fresh,  sensible  man, 
who  has  never  heard  of  it,  —  and  he  will  stare  at  you  or 
will  run  away  from  you,  for  fear  that  in  your  madness 
you  will  begin  to  strike  him,  or  he  will  bind  you  as  a 
dangerous  lunatic. 

Only  because  this  poison  was  inoculated  in  us  in  our 
childhood,  we  bear  it  all,  as  though  it  were  not  noticeable. 
And  what  is  most  terrible,  this  frightful,  slowly  inoculated 
poison  has  made  useless  and  inefficacious  for  us  Christ's 
faith,  which  answers  the  highest  demands  of  the  men  of 
our  time. 

We  have  lived  nineteen  hundred  years  since  Christ: 
but  His  teaching  in  all  its  purity  even  now  completely 
answers  aU  our  demands  for  the  establishment  of  our  rela- 
tion to  God,  not  to  the  God  of  the  Jews  and  of  the 
Orthodox,  or  Catholic,  or  Protestant  Church,  but  to  that 
God  by  whose  will  exists  this  infinite  universe,  and  amidst 
it  the  planet  Earth,  and  upon  earth  I,  who  live  after 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  years  of  the  evolution  of  animal 


424        ON    THE    DECEPTION    OF    THE    CHURCH 

life  in  Puddzh,  or  in  New  York,  or  in  the  deserts  of 
Africa. 

The  chief  difference  between  the  private,  exchisive 
relation,  which  the  churchmen,  the  Buddhists,  the  Brah- 
mins, the  Mohammedans,  and  others  call  their  religion, 
and  the  true  Christian  faith  is  this,  that  all  those  re- 
ligions, to  say  nothing  of  their  incompatibility  with 
knowledge  and  common  sense,  have  the  property  of 
excluding,  denying  one  another,  whereas  Christ's  religion 
is  such  that  it  is  not  only  comprehensible  and  accessible  to 
everybody,  but  also  cannot  be  rejected,  cannot  be  disa- 
greed with.  This  religion  is  not  only  not  exclusive,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  coincides  with  everything  true  and  ex- 
alted in  all  the  other  religions. 

It  says  that  the  beginning  of  everything  is  spiritual, 
rational,  and  full  of  love.  This  beginning  is  called  God  and 
Father.  It  calls  this  beginning  Father,  because  man 
recognizes  this  beginning  in  himself.  Entering  into  life, 
it  seems  to  man  that  he  lives  as  an  animal,  that  his  animal 
being  is  his  ego ;  but  in  proportion  as  his  reason  is  devel- 
oped, he  sees  that  this  animal  is  not  free,  that  it  suffers 
and  perishes,  and  in  his  consciousness  he  feels  that  there 
is  something  which  is  not  subject  to  oppression,  nor  to 
suffering,  nor  to  perdition  ;  and  man  enters  into  a  contra- 
diction with  himself  and  into  despair. 

It  is  to  this  internal  contradiction  that,  developing  it, 
Christ's  teaching  gives  an  answer.  It  tells  a  man : 
it  only  seems  to  you  that  you  live  as  an  animal ;  but  that 
only  seems  so  to  you,  as  it  seems  to  you  that  the  bank  is 
running,  when  you  travel  in  a  boat,  or  as  it  seems  to  you 
that  the  sun  is  moving.  What  lives  in  man  is  only  his 
spiritual,  rational,  and  good  beginning,  —  the  son  of  God . 
Man  must  transfer  his  ego  from  the  animal  to  the  spiritual, 
and  satisfy  the  demands,  not  of  the  animal,  but  of  tliB 
spiritual  being.  Man  need  but  understand  this,  and 
the  contradiction  of  his  Hfe  disappears :  every  oppression, 


ON    THE    DECEPTION    OF    THE    CHURCH        425 

every  suffering  disappears,  he  becomes  completely  free. 
Death  is  destroyed,  because  what  is  spiritual,  what  is  God 
Himself,  camiot  be  destroyed :  it  always  was,  is,  and  will 
be. 

In  this  transference  of  our  ego  from  the  animal  to 
the  spiritual  lies  the  essence  of  Christ's  teaching,  and  the 
details  of  this  teaching,  begun  with  Christ  and  continued 
by  all  humanity,  consist  in  the  destruction,  the  disclosure 
of  those  offences  by  means  of  which  the  men  of  the  ani- 
mal life,  from  the  inertia  of  tradition,  try  to  conceal  from 
man  his  ruin  in  the  animal  life  and  to  maintain  him  on 
this  false  path.  The  disclosure  of  these  offences  is  the 
work  of  the  life  of  men,  —  that  which  God  wants  of 
men. 

Such,  in  its  broadest  features,  is  Christ's  teaching, — 
that  teaching  by  which  the  relation  of  man  to  the  world 
is  estabhshed.  And  this  teacliing  is  not  exceptional,  but 
general,  the  highest,  most  accessible  to  all,  and  not  only 
does  not  contradict  the  other  teachings  and  modern  knowl- 
edge, but  even  illumines  and  elucidates  them. 

And  here,  in  the  place  of  it,  we  will  return  to  the  com- 
prehension of  life,  with  sacrifices,  redemptions,  sacraments, 
an  evil,  punishing  and  rewarding,  personal  God,  —  such 
as  it  was  five  thousand  years  ago.  What  for  ?  God  save 
us  from  that,  dear  friend. 

What  you  do  and  what  you  may  do  appears  to  me  like 
this :  a  man  is  travelling  in  a  steam  automobile.  He 
does  not  know  the  road,  or  simply  is  tired  of  travelling 
fast,  and  he  wants  to  arrest  the  motion,  —  so  he  sticks  a 
rod  between  the  wheels.  He  puts  in  one  rod  :  the  wheels 
catch  it,  but  the  machine  still  goes  on,  though  more 
slowly.  He  lets  down  another  rod,  from  the  thinner  end. 
There  seems  to  be  no  trouble :  the  machine  still  works ; 
but  the  wheels  will  soon  catch  the  thicker  end  of  the  rod, 
and  then  the  machine  will  be  clogged  and  spoiled.  We 
cannot  with  impunity  admit  anything  irrational,  anything 


426        ON    TUE    DECEPTION    OF    THE    CHURCH 

not  justified  by  reason,  into  our  faith.  Keason  is  given 
us  from  above,  to  guide  us.  But  if  we  choke  it,  this  will 
not  pass  with  impunity.  And  the  ruin  of  reason  is  the 
most  terrible  ruin. 

Here  I  have  told  you  a  part  of  what  I  think,  —  I  told 
it  lovingly  to  you.  Please,  do  not  answer  me  by  points, 
discussing  any  one  of  them  in  particular.  If  you  dis- 
agree, explain  to  me  how  you  combine  your  faith  with 
your  comprehension  of  life,  and  briefly  and  clearly  express 
to  me  your  world-conception. 

Meanwhile  good-bye.     I  kiss  you. 

Moscow,  March  16, 1896. 


THEEE   PHASES   OF   LIFE 

You  give  me  three  examples  of  your  inconsistency : 
(1)  malice  toward  men,  (2)  the  lack  of  correspondence 
between  life  and  the  comprehension  of  life,  and  (3)  the 
doubt  in  the  future,  the  eternal  life. 

The  first,  —  malice  toward  men,  the  impotence,  not 
only  of  love,  but  also  of  forgiveness,  —  I  have  experienced 
more  powerfully  than  anything  else,  and  I  suffer  very 
much  from  it.  I  console  myself  with  the  thought  that 
God  aids  me  in  this,  and  there  are  interruptions  of  malice, 
there  are  flashes  of  the  consciousness  of  my  guilt,  my 
sins,  and  so  —  a  cessation  of  condemnations,  and  even 
manifestations  of  pity,  where  there  was  malice.  I  am 
sure  that  God  gives  you,  too,  these  minutes,  these  sparks 
of  fire.  And  if  there  are  sparks,  there  will  be  warmth 
and  light. 

I  will  tell  you  what  that  tinder  is  into  which  I  catch 
these  sparks,  and  with  what  I  try  to  fan  the  fire  in  my 
heart. 

Above  all,  repentance ;  not  wholesale  repentance :  "  I 
have  sinned,  father,  I  have  sinned,"  or,  still  worse,  the 
admission  that  I  am  wholly  in  sin,  that  I  was  born  in 
sin,  that  every  step  of  mine  is  sin.  This  admission,  col- 
lecting, compacting  all  the  sins  in  one  heap,  seems  to 
separate  them  from  me  and  deprives  me  of  that  inevitable 
spiritual  use,  which  by  the  mercy  of  God  is  attached  to 
every  sin,  as  an  antidote  to  a  poison. 

Repentance  does  not  consist  in  repenting  of  the  whole 
past  life  in  general,  bit  ir  eeeing  in  our  soul  the  traces 

4*7 


428  THREE    PHASES    OF    LIFE 

and  remnants  (it  is  well,  if  only  traces  and  remnants)  of 
former  sins,  definite,  comprehensible,  committed  then  and 
then,  and  in  forming  from  these  remnants  a  vivid  picture 
of  our  former  life,  and  the  present  viciousness  and  sav- 
agery, for  every  point  in  particular. 

What  ought  we  to  do,  in  order  that  we  may  stop  being 
angry  at  a  man,  in  order  to  make  peace,  forgive,  if  there 
is  anything  to  forgive,  and  even  pity  and  love  him  ?  Best 
of  all  is  to  think  of  some  sin  of  ours  in  his  presence,  a  sin 
like  his.  That  is  particular  happiness,  and  then  there  is 
an  immediate  cure.  But  that  happens  but  rarely  (but  it 
only  seems  to  be  rare  because  we  do  not  look  for  it  well), 
and  so  we  have  to  look  for  a  similar,  or  at  least  equal,  or, 
still  better,  worse  sin,  in  the  presence  of  others.  And  if 
we  do  so  sincerely,  seriously,  and  vividly  think  of  our 
abomination,  —  we  shall  forgive,  make  peace,  and,  God 
willing,  pity  and  love. 

Of  course,  God  forfend  that  we  dissemble,  pretending 
to  love  and  pity,  when  we  do  not.  That  is  worse  than 
hatred.  And  similarly,  God  forfend  that  we  should  not 
catch  and  fan  this  spark  of  pity  and  love  for  our  enemy, 
that  divine  love,  when  God  sends  us  this  spark.  There 
can,  indeed,  be  nothing  more  precious. 

We  have  a  terrible  habit  of  forgetting,  —  of  forgetting 
our  evil,  our  sins.  And  there  is  no  more  radical  means 
for  forgetting  our  sins,  than  wholesale  repentance.  All 
the  sins  are  boiled  down,  as  it  were,  into  one  impermeable 
mass,  with  which  nothing  can  be  done,  and  if  a  nice  little 
sin  of  our  own  is  needed,  such  as  would  redeem  the  sin 
of  those  who  sin  against  us,  none  is  found.  But  this 
museum  ought  to  be  kept  in  order,  so  that  we  may  find 
at  once  what  is  needed,  when  it  is  needed,  and  all  the 
objects,  the  sins,  ought  to  be  kept  separately,  so  that 
they  should  not  cover  one  another,  but  may  appear  in 
the  most  impressive  form.  We  must  not  forget,  but  re- 
member, always  remember  our  sins,  in  order  by  means  of 


THREE    PHASES    OF    LIFE  429 

them  to  mitigate  the  condemnation  of  others.  I  think 
that  the  chief  difference  between  a  good  and  a  bad  man 
is  this,  that  the  good  man  remembers  all  the  evil  which 
he  has  done,  and  forgets  and  does  not  see  the  good,  and  a 
bad  man  does  the  other  way. 

Thus,  as  to  the  first  point,  I  can  tell  you  what  has 
been  pointed  out  to  me  by  God :  do  not  forgive  yourself, 
and  then  you  will  forgive  others. 

The  second,  the  lack  of  correspondence  between  life 
and  that  which,  you  say,  it  ought  to  be,  and  which,  we 
may  say  outright,  it  will  be,  is  its  symptom,  that  is,  the 
sign  of  life :  the  acorn  does  not  correspond  to  the  oak, 
the  egg  to  the  hen,  the  repentant  sinner  to  a  saint.  In 
all  of  them  there  takes  place  a  motion  from  a  lower  con- 
dition to  a  higher,  from  the  worse  to  the  better,  from  the 
lesser  to  the  greater,  —  all  that  is  not  precise,  —  there  is 
taking  place  life. 

Now  in  this  life  there  is  a  threefold  relation  : 

(1)  Life  goes  on,  and  a  being,  like  the  acorn,  a  child, 
often  even  a  man,  does  not  feel,  does  not  cognize  this 
motion,  and  neither  helps  nor  retards  it. 

(2)  Man  recognizes  this  motion,  —  he  sees  toward 
what  it  is  moving,  and  he  hastens  tliis  motion,  hurries  to 
be  what  he  ought  to  become.  The  boy  wants  to  be  a 
grown-up :  he  imagines  that  if  he  puts  on  a  uniform,  goes 
out  hunting,  drinks,  and  swears,  he  will  be  a  man.  The 
same  takes  place  in  the  religious  life :  a  man  sees  that  he 
is  going  toward  the  good,  toward  the  liberation  from  sin, 
toward  sanctity,  and  imagines  that,  if  he  sacrifices  wethers 
and  tapers,  if  he  goes  to  confession  and  communion,  or  if 
he  assures  himself  that  such  sacrifice  has  been  made, 
he  is  purged  of  sin,  that  he  will  actually  be  freed  from 
sin  and  will  reach  sanctity.  That  is  a  terrible  path.  As 
a  boy  is  corrupted,  if  he  wishes  to  be  what  he  is  not,  so 
is  a  man  who  religiously  wants  to  be  something  he  is  not. 

(3)  Man    sees   whither  he   is  going,  knows   that  the 


430  THREE    PHASES    OF    LIFE 

disagreement  between  his  life  and  his  consciousness  is  a 
condition  of  his  life,  and  with  all  his  strength  tries  in 
his  life  to  diminish  this  disagreement,  knowing  that  this 
is  not  his  own  personal  matter,  but  that  of  his  Father,  of 
Him  who  sent  him  hither  such  as  he  is,  and  implanted 
in  him  the  consciousness  of  what  he  ought  to  be  and 
will  be.  And  man,  knowing  that  this  lack  of  corre- 
spondence is  not  something  especial,  something  accidental, 
but  the  law  of  every  life,  without  which  no  motion  is 
possible,  and  no  approximation  to  the  eternal  and  infinite 
perfection,  God,  —  knowing  this,  man  sees  in  this  lack  of 
correspondence  the  condition  of  his  life  and  good. 

Indeed,  if  man  did  not  have  any  comprehension,  and 
the  resulting  consciousness  of  the  disagreement  between 
his  life  and  what  it  ought  to  be,  and  if  life  were  such  as 
it  was  when  he  was  a  senseless  sinner  (it  is  not  only 
you  and  I,  but  everybody,  that  passes  through  sin),  it 
would  be  worse  for  him.  And  if  there  were  not  his 
sinfulness,  and  he  could  at  once  be  what  he  wants  to  be 
according  to  his  comprehension,  it  would  be  worse  still : 
there  would  be  no  reason  for  living,  no  life  at  all. 

But  you  will  say :  "  Why  do  I  not  go  ahead  ?  Why 
am  I  still  such  as  I  was  ? "  Thank  God  for  feeling  thus. 
It  is  bad  when  a  man  says  to  himself :  "  I  am  better  than 
I  was  ;  here,  for  example,  I  do  not  smoke,  do  not  fornicate, 
do  not  even  grow  angry,  —  I  do  not  give  my  tithe  as 
before,  and  I  am  not  like  the  publican."  God  help  us 
always  to  be  dissatisfied  and  not  to  see  those  steps  which 
we  have  made  (if  we  have  made  them),  upon  approaching 
Him.  These  tiny  steps  are  noticeable  only  when  we  do 
what  we  ought  not  to  do,  —  when  we  compare  ourselves 
with  our  former  selves,  or  with  others.  We  must  try  to 
be  perfect,  as  the  Father  is  perfect,  and  so  to  compare 
ourselves  with  Him,  that  is,  the  highest,  infinite  good  and 
truth,  and  then  we  shall  not  see  our  steps.  What  will 
support  us  in  life  is  not  these  Lilhputian  steps  on  the 


THREE    PHASES    OF    LIFE  431 

path  of  goodness,  but  only  the  consciousness  of  oui  doing 
the  will  of  God.  God's  will  is  this,  that,  having  done 
everything  we  can  for  the  destruction  of  the  disagreement, 
we  may  recognize  that  we  have  done  what  we  cannot  help 
doing,  as  in  the  case  of  the  labourer  and  the  husbandmen 
who  return  from  the  field.  Another  striking  thing  is 
this,  that  this  lack  of  correspondence  between  conscious- 
ness and  life,  which  so  disturbs  many,  is  always  one 
and  the  same  in  the  case  of  all  men,  —  in  the  case  of 
the  hohest  and  of  the  most  sinful  of  men.  At  least 
I  know  in  my  own  case  that  in  the  sacred  minutes  of 
consciousness  at  every  point  of  my  path  of  life,  the  lack 
of  correspondence  and  the  dissatisfaction  with  myself  have 
been  one  and  the  same,  —  constant.  I  did  not  feel  it 
only  when  I  sank  morally.  Consequently  it  is  not  some- 
thing special,  but  the  property  of  a  true  human  life. 

Yes,  the  devil  cannot  say  to  sensible  people  who  sin, 

and  know  that  they  sin:  "You  are  not  sinnmg  at  all, 

when  you  sin,  kill,  fornicate,  and   so  on.     Continue  to 

live  in  the  same  w^ay.     You  and  everybody  else  will  fare 

well."     The  people  will  not  believe  him.     So  he  invents  a 

sophism  which  leads  to  the  same,  that  is,  that  men,  sinning, 

should  beheve  that  they  are  not  sinning,  and  should  bathe 

in  their  sins,  without  noticing  them,  —  and  so  he  says  to 

them :  "  Let  us  assume  that  your  life  is  such  as  will  not 

lead  all  to  the  good  and  as  may  be  called  sinful.     Let  us 

assume  that  you  sin,  living  as  you  do ;  but  you  cannot 

even  live  without  sinning,  and  the  consciousness  of  sinning 

is  too  oppressive,  and  God  could  not  have  meant  that  all 

should  constantly  be  tormented  by  this  consciousness,  and 

so  He  has  given  a  means  for  freeing  oneself  from  this 

consciousness.     This  means  is  the  sacrifices  which  you 

make,  or  which  are  made  for  you,  —  in  general  redemptory 

sacrifices." 

We  have  so  long  been  used  to  this,  we  have  so  imbibed 
with  the  milk  this  representation  of  a  life  in  which  we 


432  THREE   PHASES    OF   LIFE 

can  be  at  peace  and  satisfied  with  ourselves,  that  that 
natural,  inevitable  condition  of  the  living  human  soul  in 
which  we  feel  that  we  strive  from  what  is  worse  to  what 
is  better,  that  is,  the  lack  of  correspondence  between  hfe 
and  consciousness,  presents  itself  to  us  as  something 
exceptional. 

I  frequently  think  of  the  hero  of  a  story  which  I  should 
like  to  write :  a  man  educated,  let  us  say,  in  a  circle  of 
revohitionists,  himself  at  first  a  revolutionist,  then  a 
popuhst,  sociahst,  Orthodox,  a  monk  on  Mount  Athos, 
then  an  atheist,  a  man  of  a  family,  then  a  Dukhobor. 
He  begins  everything,  throws  away  everything,  without 
ending  anything.  People  laugh  at  him.  He  has  done 
nothing,  and  dies  ingloriously  somewhere  in  a  prison. 
Dying,  he  thinks  that  he  has  wasted  his  life  for  nothing, 
but  it  is  he  who  is  a  saint. 

The  third  is  the  suspicion  that  everything  which  you 
think  and  feel  about  eternal  life  may  be  the  fruit  of 
unconscious  self-deception,  which  results  from  fear  before 
the  apparition  of  life.  You  write  that  you  cannot  clearly 
express  this  condition.  Indeed,  it  cannot  be  expressed. 
This  condition  is  only  a  sign  of  something  unfinished  in 
the  soul. 

If  there  is  nothing,  we  should  live  and  enjoy  ourselves. 
But  you  can  no  longer  do  so.  If  all  this  is  a  bad  decep- 
tion, an  apparition,  we  ought  to  shoot  ourselves  or  be 
silent.  But  you  cannot  do  that,  either.  But  if  there  is  a 
God,  we  must  throw  off,  cut  down  everything  which  sepa- 
rates us  from  Him.     And  that  you  are  doing  and  will  do. 

Again  the  terrible  trick  of  the  devil  —  the  frivolous, 
ungrounded,  false  faith  in  the  future,  and  not  in  the 
eternal  life.  I  think  that  if  there  were  no  false  teaching 
about  the  future  life,  no  one  would  have  any  doubt  as  to 
the  eternal  life  (the  one  about  which  your  child,  who  un- 
doubtedly lived  it,  told  you  so  clearly).  Again  the  devil 
cannot  in  any  way  say  that  there  is  no  eternal  life,  when 


THREE    PHASES    OF    LIFE  433 

there  is  but  the  one  eternal  life,  and  we  cannot  know  any 
other  (the  dead  child  hves  it).  Again  he  invents  a  trick : 
the  carnal  life  is  a  crossing  of  a  river,  an  abyss,  between 
this  shore  and  the  next,  an  unquestionably  firm  ford, 
which  is  right  on  our  path,  and  it  is  impossible  to  miss  it, 
or  to  doubt  in  its  firmness  or  that  it  leads  to  the  good. 
And  so  the  devil  builds  a  bridge,  which  ends  in  a  pit, 
which  does  not  at  all  lead  whither  it  ought  to  lead,  and 
the  devil  takes  people  there  under  the  pretext  that  it  is 
easier  to  cross  on  his  bridge.  And  standing  on  his  bridge 
and  seeing  the  abyss  before  oneself,  one  believes  that 
there  is  no  life. 

I  have  experienced  it.  Do  not  believe  him.  If  there 
is  any  doubt,  it  is  only  so  because  you  have  not  lost  your 
belief  in  the  future  life  of  personalities.  That  is  his,  the 
devil's,  deception. 

Eternal  hfe  is  like  a  balloon.  The  gas  is  not  our  force, 
but  God's,  which  draws  us  upwards ;  the  cables  which 
hold  it  down  are  the  delusions ;  and  the  ballast  is  the 
bias,  our  will,  and  not  God's,  If  the  cable  is  cut,  the 
ballast  holds  us.  In  proportion  as  we  throw  out  the  bal- 
last, we  fly  upwards. 

Before  1899. 


THE   COMMUNE   AND   THE   WOELD 

(From  a  letter  to  D.  A.  Khflkov) 

The  other  day  I  received  your  letter,  D.  A.,  and  I  have 
just  finished  reading  it  again.  1  will  try  to  answer  its 
chief  contents,  as  I  understand  them.  What  of  it,  if  the 
communes  have  fallen  to  pieces  ?  If  we  considered  these 
communes  to  be  a  sample  of  how  Christ's  teaching  ought 
to  be  realized  in  the  world  and  of  how  the  kingdom  of 
God  should  be  established  upon  earth,  that  would  be  ter- 
rible :  then  the  falling  to  pieces  of  the  commune  would 
show  the  inadequacy  of  Christ's  teaching ;  but  thus  the 
communes  were  not  looked  upon,  either  by  us  who  were 
outside  them,  or  by  those  who  took  part  in  them.  (If 
any  one  looked  upon  them  in  this  light,  their  falling  to 
pieces  would  correct  this  false  view,  and  so  the  falling 
to  pieces  is  in  this  sense  even  useful.)  These  communes 
were  a  certain  form  of  life  which  some  people  chose  in 
their  motion  along  the  path  indicated  by  Christ.  Other 
people  chose  other  forms  (or  other  people  were  placed 
under  different  conditions),  hke  you,  I,  Ge,  and  all  men 
who  travel  on  this  path.  And,  as  you  yourself  write,  no 
matter  how  good  separate  settlements  may  be,  they  are 
good  only  so  long  as  they  are  needed,  —  all  forms,  as 
forms,  are  of  necessity  certainly  transient,  hke  waves.  If 
the  communes  have  fallen  to  pieces,  that  was  so  only  be- 
cause the  men  who  lived  in  them  outgrew  their  integument 
and  tore  it.  We  can  only  rejoice  at  this.  I  now  am  writ- 
ing partly  about  this,  and  in  a  letter  I  shall  of  course  not 
be  able  to  express  everything  clearly,  but  I  wiU  try,  and 

434 


THE  COMMUNE  AND  THE  WORLD      435 

you  help  me,  —  understand  even  what  is  not  clearly  ex- 
pressed. 

Christianity  is  a  motion  along  a  path  indicated  by 
Christ,  —  by  means  of  the  truth  toward  the  full  perfec- 
tion of  the  heavenly  Father.  And  Christianity  is  the 
more  Christianity,  the  more  it  is  motion,  the  more  accel- 
erated this  motion  is.  Thus  the  chief  of  the  publicans, 
Zacchieus,  who  lived  all  in  lust  and  suddenly  decided  to 
give,  was  at  that  moment  more  of  a  Christian  than  the 
disciples  who  asked  what  their  rewards  would  be  for  their 
loyalty ;  the  thief  on  the  cross,  the  harlot,  the  publican, 
are  more  than  the  Pharisee.  Every  man,  no  matter  on 
what  low  stage  he  may  stand,  may  be  a  Christian,  may 
move  and  accelerate  this  motion  to  infinity  (observe  that 
nothing  touches  us  so  much  or  gives  us  so  much  pleasure 
as  these  motions,  when  the  sinner  repents,  —  the  lost 
sheep,  the  coin),  and,  no  matter  on  what  high  stage  of 
righteousness  a  man  may  be,  he  can  stop  moving,  stop 
beiuw  a  Christian.  Nothing  arrests  the  motion  so  much 
as  a  certain  form,  as  self-observation,  as  the  consciousness 
of  being  at  a  certain  stage  (indeed,  this  consciousness  is 
the  form  where  "  the  left  hand  does  not  know  what  the 
right  is  doing,"  and,  "  not  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  God  is 
he  tliat  takes  hold  of  the  plough  and  looks  back  "). 

Precisely  this  the  churches  have  done.  What  is  the 
church  ?  Ptead  the  Orthodox,  the  Catholic,  and  the 
Lutheran  catechisms.  They  deny  one  another,  and  each 
of  them  asserts  that  it  has  the  truth.  Thus  a  strict, 
precise  definition  of  the  church  is  —  men  who  assert  of 
themselves  that  the  comprehension  of  the  truth  and  the 
fulfilment  of  it,  as  practised  by  them,  are  the  only  correct 
ones.  But  this  is  said  by  every  man  who  recognizes  the 
form  chosen  by  him  as  the  only  regular  one.  This  tend- 
ency of  men  of  recognizing  the  form  as  regular,  though 
not  approaching  the  cruelty  of  the  church,  is  the  chief 
impediment  to   Christianity,  —  it  is  friction.     It  is  the 


436     THE  COMMUNE  AND  THE  WORLD 

problem  of  men  who  follow  Christ  to  diminish  this  fric- 
tion as  much  as  possible.  There  are  an  endless  number 
of  forms  for  following  in  the  path  of  Christ,  just  as  there 
are  an  endless  number  of  points  in  the  line,  and  not  one 
is  more  important  than  another.  What  is  important  is 
the  rapidity  of  motion,  and  the  rapidity  of  motion  is  in 
inverse  proportion  to  the  possibility  of  determining  the 
points. 

Again :  you  say  that  you  do  not  like  the  word  and 
conception  of  "  self-perfection,"  and  that  you  do  not  like 
perfection  itself :  it  is  too  indeterminate  and  broad.  I 
understand  this.  This  is  connected  with  the  questions 
about  the  communes  and  forms,  and  this  is  what  I  have 
been  thinking  of  it  (the  parable  of  the  labourers  in  the 
vineyard  who  do  not  pay  tribute  and  of  the  talents) : 
The  true  life  is  given  to  man  under  two  conditions : 
(1)  that  he  may  do  good  to  men  (but  the  good  is  one, 
and  one  only,  —  to  increase  love  toward  men, —  to  feed  a 
hungry  man,  visit  a  sick  man,  and  so  forth,  —  all  this  is 
only  for  the  purpose  of  increasing  love  in  men),  and  (2) 
that  he  should  increase  the  power  of  love  which  is  given 
to  him.  One  conditions  the  other :  good  works,  which  in- 
crease love  in  men,  are  good  only  when  in  their  perform- 
ance I  feel  that  love  is  being  increased  in  me,  when  I  do 
them  lovingly,  with  emotion ;  and  love  is  increased  in  me 
(I  am  being  perfected),  only  when  I  do  good  works  and 
evoke  love  in  other  men.  Thus,  if  I  do  good  works 
and  remain  cold,  or,  if  I  perfect  myself  and  think  that  I 
am  increasing  love  in  myself,  while  this  does  not  evoke 
love  in  other  men  (at  times  even  provokes  evil),  that  is 
not  it.  Only  then  do  I  know  —  and  we  all  know  —  that 
it  is  it,  when  I  love  more  and  people,  too,  are  filled  with 
more  love  (by  the  way,  this  is  also  a  proof  that  love  is 
the  one  essence  —  one  God  in  all  of  us  —  which,  by  dis- 
covering Him  in  ourselves  discovers  Him  in  everybody 
else,  and  vice  versa). 


THE    COMMUNE   AND    THE    WORLD  437 

Thus  I  think  that  every  arrangement,  every  definition, 
every  arrest  of  consciousness  at  any  stage  is  the  predomi- 
nance of  care  about  increasing  love  in  oneself,  a  self-per- 
fection without  good  works.  The  grossest  form  of  this 
kind  is  the  standing  on  a  pillar,  but  every  form  is  more 
or  less  such  a  standing.  Every  form  separates  us  from 
men,  consequently  also  from  the  possibility  of  good  works 
and  from  the  incitement  of  love  in  them.  Such  also  are 
the  communes,  and  this  is  their  defect,  if  we  recognize 
them  as  a  constant  form.  The  standing  on  a  pillar  and  the 
going  away  into  the  wilderness  and  the  living  in  a  com- 
mune may  be  necessary  to  men  for  a  time,  but  as  a  con- 
stant form  they  are  an  obvious  sin  and  madness.  It  is 
impossible  to  live  a  pure,  saintly  life  on  a  pillar  or  in  a 
commune,  because  man  is  deprived  of  one-half  of  life,  that 
of  a  communion  with  the  world,  without  which  his  life 
has  no  meaning.  To  live  thus  constantly,  it  is  necessary 
for  us  to  deceive  ourselves,  because  it  is  too  clear  that,  as 
it  is  impossible  in  a  turbid  stream  by  any  chemical  proc- 
ess to  separate  a  circle  of  pure  water,  so  it  is  impossible 
amidst  the  whole  world  hving  by  violence  for  the  sake  of 
lust  to  live  alone  or  alone  to  be  a  saint.  It  is  necessary 
to  buy  or  rent  land  or  a  cow,  and  it  is  necessary  to  enter 
into  relations  with  the  external,  non-Christian  world. 
These  relations  are  most  important  and  necessary.  It  is 
impossible  and  unnecessary  to  go  away  from  them.  It 
is  possible  only  to  deceive  oneself.  The  whole  business 
of  a  disciple  of  Christ  is  to  establish  the  most  Christian 
relations  with  this  world. 

Imagine  that  all  men  who  understand  the  teaching  of 
truth  as  we  do  should  assemble  and  settle  on  an  island. 
Would  that  be  life  ?  And  consider  that  the  whole  world, 
all  men,  are  involuntarily  going  in  the  same  direction  with 
us,  and  that  the  men  who  understand  the  truth  as  we  do, 
who  are  standing  (now)  on  the  same  step,  are  scattered 
all  over  the  world,  and  that  we  have  the  joy  of  meeting 


438     THE  COMMUNE  AND  THE  WORLD 

them  and  knowing  them  and  their  labours.  Is  not  that 
better  ?     Indeed  it  is. 

You  say  that  it  is  impossible  to  love  Herod.  I  do  not 
know.  But  I  know,  and  so  do  you,  that  we  must  love 
him ;  I  know,  and  so  do  you,  that  if  I  do  not  love  him, 
I  am  pained,  I  have  no  hfe  (1  John  iii.  14),  and  so  we 
must  try  and  we  can  work. 

I  imagine  a  man  who  has  lived  all  his  life  in  love 
amidst  those  who  love  him,  but  who  does  not  love  Herod, 
and  another,  who  has  used  all  his  efforts  for  loving 
Herod  and  has  remained  indifferent  to  those  who  loved 
him  and  for  twenty  years  did  not  love  him,  but  in  the 
twenty-first  year  came  to  love  Herod  and  made  Herod 
love  him  and  other  men,  and  I  do  not  know  who  is  better. 
"  For  if  ye  love  them  which  love  you,  what  reward  have 
ye?" 

1899  (?). 


CONCERNING   THE   CONGEESS    OF    PEACE 

(Letter  to  certain  Swedes) 

Gentlemen  :  —  The  idea  expressed  in  your  beautiful 
letter,  that  universal  disarmament  may  be  attained  in  the 
easiest  and  most  certain  way  by  means  of  the  refusal  of 
separate  individuals  to  take  part  in  military  service,  is 
quite  correct.  I  even  think  that  it  is  the  only  way  of 
freeing  men  from  the  ever  growing  terrible  calamities 
of  militarism.  But  your  idea  that  the  question  about 
substituting  public  works  for  military  service,  in  the  case 
of  those  persons  who  refuse  to  do  it,  may  be  considered 
at  the  Conference  about  to  be  held  at  the  request  of  the 
emperor,  seems  to  me  quite  faulty,  if  for  no  other  reason 
than  that  the  Conference  can  be  nothing  else  but  one  of 
those  hypocritical  institutions,  whose  purpose  is  not  the 
attainment  of  peace,  but,  on  the  contrary,  the  concealment 
from  men  of  that  one  means  for  attaining  universal  peace 
which  advanced  people  are  beginning  to  see. 

The  Conference,  they  say,  will  have  for  its  aim,  if  not 
the  abolition  of  armaments,  at  least  the  cessation  of  the 
increase  of  them.  It  is  assumed  that  at  this  Conference 
the  representatives  of  the  governments  will  agree  not  to 
increase  their  armaments.  If  that  is  so,  there  involunta- 
rily arises  the  question  as  to  how  the  governments  of  those 
states  will  act,  which  during  the  meeting  of  the  Confer- 
ence happen  to  be  weaker  than  their  neiglibours.  It  is 
not  very  likely  that  such  governments  will  agree  to  remain 
even  in  the  future  in  the  same  weaker  condition  than  that 
of  their  neighbours.     But  if  they  should  agree  to  remain 

439 


440   CONCERNING  THE  CONGRESS  OF  PEACE 

in  this  weaker  condition,  through  their  firm  faith  in  the 
decrees  of  the  Conference,  they  could  be  weaker  still  and 
not  spend  anything  on  the  army. 

But  if  the  business  of  the  Conference  shall  consist  in 
equalizing  the  military  powers  of  the  states  and  in  keeping 
them  equal,  and  it  should  be  possible  to  attain  such  an 
impossible  equalization,  there  involuntarily  arises  the  ques- 
tion :  why  need  the  governments  stop  at  their  present 
armaments,  and  why  do  they  not  descend  to  lower  ones  ? 
Why  is  it  necessary  for  Germany,  France,  or  Eussia  to 
have,  let  us  say,  one  milhon  soldiers,  and  not  five  hundred 
thousand,  or  ten  thousand,  or  one  thousand  ?  If  it  is  pos- 
sible to  diminish,  why  not  reduce  it  to  the  minimum,  and 
finally  in  place  of  the  armies  put  up  champions,  David 
and  Goliath,  and  decide  international  affairs  according  to 
the  result  of  the  fight  of  the  champions  ? 

They  say  that  the  conflicts  of  the  governments  will  be 
decided  by  a  court  of  arbitration.  But,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  fact  that  the  affairs  will  not  be  decided  by  the 
representatives  of  the  nations,  but  by  the  representatives 
of  the  governments,  when  there  would  be  no  guarantee 
that  the  solutions  would  be  correct,  —  who  will ,  exe- 
cute the  sentence  of  the  court  ?  —  The  armies.  —  Whose 
armies?  —  Those  of  all  the  powers.  —  But  the  forces 
of  these  powers  are  not  equal.  Who,  for  example, 
will  on  the  Continent  enforce  the  decision  which,  let  us 
say,  will  be  disadvantageous  for  Germany,  Eussia,  or 
France,  which  are  united  in  an  alliance  ?  Or  who  will 
on  the  sea  enforce  a  decision  which  is  opposed  to  the 
interests  of  England,  America,  or  France  ?  The  decision 
of  the  court  of  arbitration  against  the  military  violence  of 
the  states  will  be  executed  by  means  of  military  violence ; 
that  is,  that  which  is  to  be  limited  will  itself  be  a  means 
of  limitation.  To  catch  a  bird,  it  is  necessary  to  throw 
salt  upon  its  tail. 

I  remember,  during  the  siege  of  Sevastopol,  I  was  one 


CONCERXrXG  THE  CONGRESS  OF  PEACE   441 

day  sitting  with  the  adjutants  of  Saken,  the  commander 
of  the  garrison,  when  into  the  waiting-room  came  S.  S. 
Urusov,  a  very  brave  officer,  a  very  odd  fellow,  and  at  the 
same  time  one  of  the  best  European  chess-players  of  the 
time.  He  said  that  he  had  some  business  with  the  gen- 
eral. An  adjutant  took  him  to  the  general's  cabinet. 
Ten  minutes  later  Urusov  passed  by  us  with  a  dissatisfied 
face.  The  adjutant  who  saw  him  out  returned  to  us  and 
told  us  on  what  business  Urusov  had  come  to  see  Saken. 
He  came  to  Saken  to  ask  him  to  challenge  the  English  to 
play  a  game  of  chess  in  the  front  trench,  at  the  van  of  the 
Fifth  Bastion,  which  had  several  times  passed  from  hand 
to  hand  and  had  cost  several  hundreds  of  lives. 

There  is  no  doubt  but  that  it  would  have  been  much 
better  to  play  chess  in  the  trench  than  to  kill  people. 
But  Saken  did  not  consent  to  Uriisov's  proposition,  as  he 
knew  quite  well  that  it  would  be  possible  to  play  chess 
in  the  trench  only  if  there  existed  a  mutual  confidence  in 
the  parties  that  the  condition  would  be  carried  out.  But 
the  presence  of  armies  standing  in  front  of  the  trench,  and 
of  the  cannon  directed  upon  it,  proved  that  no  such  con- 
fidence existed.  So  long  as  there  were  armies  on  either 
side,  it  was  evident  that  the  matter  would  be  decided 
with  bayonets,  and  not  with  a  game  of  chess.  The  same 
is  true  of  international  questions.  For  them  to  be  decided 
by  a  court  of  arbitration,  it  is  necessary  for  the  powers  to 
have  absolute  confidence  that  they  will  mutually  carry 
out  the  decision  of  the  court.  If  the  confidence  exists, 
there  is  no  need  whatsoever  of  the  armies.  But  if  there 
are  armies,  it  is  clear  that  this  confidence  is  lacking,  and 
the  international  questions  cannot  be  decided  in  any  other 
way  than  by  force  of  arms.  So  long  as  there  are  any 
armies,  they  are  needed,  not  only  for  the  purpose  of 
making  new  acquisitions,  as  now  all  the  states  are  doing, 
—  some  in  Asia,  some  in  Africa,  and  some  in  Europe,  — 
but  also  for  the  purpose  of  retaining  by  force  what  has 


442   CONCEKNING  THE  CONGRESS  OF  PEACE 

been  acquired  by  force.  Only  by  conquering  is  it  possible 
to  acquire  and  retain  by  force.  What  always  conquers  is 
the  gros  hattaillons.  And  so,  if  a  government  has  an  army, 
it  has  to  have  as  much  as  possible  of  it.  In  this  does  its 
duty  consist.  If  a  government  does  not  do  so,  it  is  un- 
necessary. A  government  may  do  a  great  deal  in  its 
internal  affairs,  —  it  may  set  free,  enlighten,  enrich  its 
people,  it  may  construct  roads  and  canals,  colonize  deserts, 
arrange  public  v^orks,  but  there  is  one  thing  it  cannot  do, 
namely  that  for  which  the  Conference  is  called,  that  is,  it 
cannot  reduce  its  military  strength. 

But  if  the  aim  of  the  Conference,  as  is  to  be  seen  from 
the  late  explanations,  shall  consist  in  eliminating  from  use 
such  instruments  of  destruction  as  present  themselves  to 
people  as  specially  cruel  (why  not  try,  among  the  number 
and  above  all  else,  to  eliminate  at  the  same  time  the  seiz- 
ure of  letters,  the  forgery  of  telegrams,  and  espionage, 
and  all  those  horrible  rascalities  which  form  a  necessary 
condition  of  military  defence  ? ),  such  a  prohibition  of 
using  in  the  struggle  such  means  as  are  at  hand  is  fully 
as  possible  as  the  injunction  given  to  people  who  are 
fighting  for  their  lives,  during  the  tight  not  to  touch  the 
most  sensitive  parts  of  tlieir  adversaries.  Aud  why  are  a 
wound  and  death  from  an  explosive  bullet  any  worse  than 
a  wound  caused  by  the  simplest  kind  of  a  bullet  or  a 
splinter  in  a  very  sensitive  spot,  the  sufferings  from  which 
reach  the  utmost  limit,  and  from  which  death  ensues  as 
from  any  other  weapon  ? 

It  is  incomprehensible  how  mentally  sound  adults  can 
seriously  express  such  strange  ideas. 

Let  us  assume  that  the  diplomatists,  who  devote  all 
their  lives  to  lying,  are  so  used  to  this  vice  and  constantly 
live  and  act  in  such  a  dense  atmosphere  of  lying  that 
they  themselves  do  not  notice  all  the  senselessness  aud 
mendacity  of  their  propositions ;  but  how  can  private  in- 
dividuals, honest  individuals,  —  not  those  who,  in  order  to 


CONCERNING   TEE    CONGRESS    OF    PEACE      443 

fawn  before  the  emperor,  laud  his  ridiculous  propositiou,  — 
help  seeing  that  nothing  can  be  the  result  of  this  Coufer- 
ence  but  the  confirmation  of  the  deception  in  which  the 
governments  keep  their  subjects,  as  was  the  case  with 
Alexander  I.'s  Holy  Alliance  ? 

The  Conference  will  have  for  its  purpose,  not  the  es- 
tablishment of  peace,  but  the  concealment  from  men  of 
the  only  means  of  freeing  them  from  the  calamities  of  war, 
which  consists  in  the  refusals  of  separate  individuals  to 
take  part  in  military  murder,  and  so  the  Conference  can 
in  no  way  take  this  question  under  advisement. 

All  those  who  from  conviction  refuse  to  do  military 
service  will  always  be  treated  by  every  government  as 
the  Dukhobors  have  been  treated  by  the  Eussian  govern- 
ment. At  the  same  time  that  it  proclaimed  to  the  whole 
world  its  quasi-peaceable  intentions,  it  secretly  from  all 
tormented,  ruined,  and  expelled  the  most  peaceable  people 
of  Russia,  only  because  they  were  not  peaceable  in  words, 
but  in  deeds,  and  so  refused  to  do  military  service.  Just 
so,  though  less  harshly,  have  acted  all  the  European  gov- 
ernments in  cases  of  refusal  to  do  military  service.  Thus 
have  acted  the  Austrian,  Prussian,  French,  Swedish,  Swiss, 
Dutch  governments,  nor  can  they  act  differently. 

They  cannot  act  differently,  because,  ruling  their  sub- 
jects by  a  force  which  is  formed  by  a  disciplined  army, 
they  can  nowise  leave  the  diminution  of  this  force,  and 
consequently  of  their  power,  to  the  accidental  moods  of 
private  individuals,  the  more  so  that,  in  all  likelihood,  as 
soon  as  work  could  by  all  men  be  substituted  for  military 
service,  the  vast  majority  of  people  (nobody  likes  to  kill 
and  to  be  killed)  would  prefer  work  to  mihtary  service, 
and  very  soon  there  would  be  such  a  great  mass  of  labour- 
ers and  such  a  small  number  of  soldiers,  that  there  would 
not  be  any  one  to  compel  the  labourers  to  work. 

The  liberals,  socialists,  and  other  so-called  representa- 
tive people,  who  are  enmeshed  in  their  own  wordiness, 


444   CONCERNING  THE  CONGRESS  OF  PEACE 

may  imagine  that  their  speeches  in  the  Chambers  and 
meetings,  their  unions,  strikes,  and  pamphlets  are  very 
important  phenomena,  and  that  the  refusals  of  separate 
individuals  to  do  military  service  are  unimportant  phe- 
nomena, which  it  is  not  worth  while  to  consider ;  but  the 
governments  know  very  well  what  for  them  is  important, 
and  what  not,  and  the  governments  gladly  allow  all  kinds 
of  liberal  and  radical  speeches  in  the  Reichstags  and 
labour-unions,  and  socialistic  demonstrations,  and  even 
themselves  make  believe  that  they  sympathize  with  all 
that,  knowing  that  these  phenomena  are  very  useful  for 
them,  in  that  they  divert  the  attention  of  the  masses 
from  the  chief  and  only  means  of  Hberation ;  but  they 
will  never  openly  permit  any  refusals  to  do  military  serv- 
ice or  refusals  to  pay  taxes  for  military  service  (that  is 
one  and  the  same  thing),  because  they  know  that  such 
refusals,  in  laying  open  tlie  deception  of  the  governments, 
undermine  their  power  at  the  root. 

So  long  as  the  governments  will  rule  their  nations  by 
force  and  will  wish,  as  they  now  do,  to  acquire  new  pos- 
sessions (the  Philippines,  Port  Arthur,  and  so  forth)  and 
to  retain  those  that  have  been  acquired  (Poland,  Alsace, 
India,  Algiers,  and  so  forth),  they  will  not  only  never 
reduce  the  armies,  but  will,  on  the  contrary,  constantly 
increase  them. 

The  other  day  the  news  was  announced  that  an 
American  regiment  had  refused  to  go  to  Iloilo.  This 
news  is  given  out  as  something  surprising.  But  the  sur- 
prise is,  why  such  phenomena  are  not  constantly  repeated  : 
how  could  all  those  Eussian,  German,  French,  Itahan, 
American  people^  who  have  fought  of  late,  at  the  will  of 
strangers  whom  for  the  most  part  they  do  not  respect, 
have  gone  to  kill  people  of  another  nation,  and  to  subject 
themselves  to  sufferings  and  death  ? 

It  would  seem  to  be  so  clear  and  so  natural  for  all 
these  men  to  come  to  their  senses,  if  not  at  the  time  when 


CONCERNING  THE  CONGRESS  OF  PEACE  445 

they  were  being  enlisted,  at  least  at  the  last  moment,  when 
they  are  being  led  against  the  enemy,  —  to  stop,  throw 
down  their  guns,  and  call  out  to  their  adversaries  to  do 
the  same. 

This  would  seem  to  be  so  simple,  so  natural,  that  aU 
people  ought  to  act  like  that.  But  if  people  do  not  act 
thus,  this  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  people  believe  their 
governments,  w^hich  assure  them  that  all  those  burdens 
which  men  carry  for  the  sake  of  war  are  imposed  upon 
them  for  their  own  good.  All  the  governments  have 
with  striking  impudence  always  asserted  that  all  those 
military  preparations,  and  even  the  wars  themselves  which 
they  wage,  are  needed  for  the  sake  of  peace.  Now  they 
are  making  in  this  field  of  hypocrisy  and  deception  a  new 
step,  which  consists  in  this,  that  those  very  governments, 
for  the  existence  of  which  armies  and  wars  are  necessary, 
make  it  appear  that  they  are  busy  finding  measures  for 
the  reduction  of  the  armies  and  the  abolition  of  wars. 
The  governments  want  to  assure  the  nations  that  the 
separate  individuals  have  no  cause  for  troubling  them- 
selves about  their  liberation  from  war :  the  governments 
themselves  will  so  fix  it  in  their  conferences  that  the 
armies  will  at  first  be  reduced  and  later  finally  abolished. 
But  that  is  an  untruth. 

The  armies  can  be  reduced  and  abolished  only  against 
the  will,  and  not  with  the  w^ll,  of  the  governments.  The 
armies  will  be  reduced  and  abolished  only  when  public 
opinion  will  brand  the  people  who  from  fear  or  advantage 
sell  their  liberty  and  take  up  a  position  in  the  ranks  of 
murderers,  called  the  army;  and  will  recognize  the  peo- 
ple, —  now  unknown  and  condemned,  —  who,  in  spite  of 
all  persecutions  and  sufferings  borne  by  them,  refuse  to 
give  their  liberty  into  the  hands  of  other  men  and  again 
to  become  instruments  of  murder,  to  be  what  they  are,  — 
champions  and  benefactors  of  humanity. 

Only  then  will  the  armies  at  first  be  reduced  and  then 


446   CONCERNING  THE  CONGRESS  OF  PEACE 

entirely  be  abolished,  and  a  new  era  will  begin  in  the 
life  of  humanity. 

This  time  is  at  hand. 

And  so  I  think  that  your  idea  that  the  refusals  to  do 
military  service  are  phenomena  of  immense  importance, 
and  that  they  will  free  humanity  from  the  calamities  of 
militarism  is  quite  correct,  but  that  your  idea  that  the 
Conference  will  contribute  anything  toward  it  is  quite 
faulty.  The  Conference  can  only  divert  the  people's  atten- 
tion  from  the  one  means  of  salvation  and  liberation. 

Moscow,  January,  1699. 


LETTER   TO   A.    V.   VLASOVi 

Eespected  Brother,  Andrey  Vasilevich  :  —  I  have 
received  your  letter  and  was  glad  to  learn  of  you  and  your 
faith.  Your  having  suffered  from  the  worldly  authorities 
proves  that  you  are  travelliug  on  Christ's  road.  Every 
man  who  walks  on  that  road  cannot  avoid  falling  in  with 
the  prince  of  this  world.  A  light  is  not  put  under  a 
bushel,  but  so  that  it  may  be  seen  by  others.  But  the 
prince  of  the  world  cannot  admit  this,  because  Christ's 
light  reveals  his  evil  deeds.  Only  those  serve  God's 
work  who,  establishing  His  kingdom  upon  earth,  arraign 
the  deceptions  of  the  prince  of  the  world  and  suffer  perse- 
cution for  it.     May  God  help  you  for  it. 

I  fuUy  agree  with  you  as  to  v/hat  you  say  in  your  let- 
ter, and  rejoiced  in  spirit,  reading  it.  I  should  like  to 
give  you  one  piece  of  advice,  and  that  is,  in  your  arraign- 
ment do  not  lose  your  love  for  your  brother ;  and  also 
this,  in  the  arraignment  of  the  lie  put  more  stress  and  re- 
liance on  reason  and  love  than  on  verses  from  the  Scrip- 
ture. The  Scripture  is  the  work  of  human  hands,  —  in 
it  there  may  be  errors,  and  everybody  may  interpret  it, 
especially  Revelation,  as  he  pleases ;  but  reason  is  given 
directly  by  God  and  to  all,  —  Tartars,  Chinamen,  and  all 
other  nations  have  one  and  the  same,  —  and  it  is  impos- 
sible not  to  believe  in  reason.  Only  those  who  do  not 
wish  to  know  the  truth  do  not  believe  in  it.     I  enclose 

'  VMsov's  personality  and  the  contents  of  his  letter  to  ToLstdy  are 
faithfully  rendered  in  Part  III.,  Chapters  XXI.  and  XXVIJ.  of  the 
Resurrection. 

447 


448  LETTEE    TO   A.    Y.   VL^SOV 

a  few  articles  on  faith,  as  I  understand  it :  two  of  them, 
Christ's  Commandments  and  How  to  Bead  the  Gospel,  were 
composed  by  me;  the  others  are  not  mine,  but  I  agree 
with  them.  Your  loving  brother. 

1889. 


LETTEE   TO   A   COEPOEAL 

You  wonder  how  it  is  soldiers  are  taught  that  it  is  right 
to  kill  men  in  certain  cases  and  in  war,  whereas  in  the 
Scripture,  which  is  acknowledged  to  be  sacred  by  those 
who'  teach  this,  there  is  nothing  resembling  such  a  per- 
mission, but  there  is  the  very  opposite,  —  a  prohibition  to 
commit  murder  and  even  any  insult  against  men,  a  pro- 
hibition to  do  to  others  what  one  does  not  wish  to  have 
done  to  oneself ;  you  ask  me  whether  this  is  not  a  decep- 
tion, and  if  so,  for  whose  advantage  it  is  practised. 

Yes,  it  is  a  deception,  which  is  practised  in  favour  of 
those  who  are  accustomed  to  live  by  the  sweat  and  blood 
of  other  people,  and  who  for  this  purpose  have  been  distort- 
ing Christ's  teaching,  which  was  given  men  for  their  good, 
but  which  now,  in  its  distorted  form,  has  become  the  chief 
source  of  all  the  calamities  of  men. 
This  happened  in  the  following  way : 
The  government  and  all  those  men  of  the  upper  classes 
who  adhere  to  the  government  and  live  by  the  labours  of 
others  have  to  have  means  for  controlhng  the  labouring 
masses ;  the  army  is  such  a  means.  The  defence  against 
foreign  enemies  is  only  an  excuse.  The  German  govern- 
ment frightens  its  nation  with  the  Eussians  and  the 
French;  the  French  frightens  its  nation  with  the  Ger- 
mans ;  the  Eussian  frightens  its  nation  with  the  Germans 
and  the  French,  and  so  it  is  with  all  the  nations ;  but 
neither  the  Germans,  nor  the  Eussians,  nor  the  French 
wish  to  fight  with  their  neighbours  and  with  other  na- 
tions ;  they  prefer  to  live  in  peace  with  them  and  are 
afraid  of  war  more  than  of  anything  in  the  world.     But, 

449 


450  LETTER   TO    A    CORPORAL 

to  have  an  excuse  in  their  control  of  the  labouring  masses, 
the  governments  and  the  upper  idle  classes  act  like  a 
gipsy,  who  whips  his  horse  around  the  corner  and  then 
pretends  that  he  is  not  able  to  hold  it  back.  They  stir 
up  their  people  and  another  government,  and  then  pretend 
that  for  the  good  or  for  the  defence  of  their  nation  they 
cannot  help  but  declare  war,  which  again  is  profitable  for 
the  generals,  officers,  officials,  merchants,  ancl,  in  general, 
for  the  wealthy  classes.  In  reality,  war  is  only  an  inev- 
itable consequence  of  the  existence  of  the  armies ;  but  the 
armies  are  needed  by  the  governments  merely  for  the  pur- 
pose of  controlhng  their  own  labouring  masses. 

It  is  a  criminal  business,  but  the  worst  thing  about  it 
is  this,  that  the  governments,  to  have  a  rational  founda- 
tion for  their  control  of  the  masses,  are  obliged  to  pretend 
that  they  are  professing  the  highest  religious  teaching 
knov/n  to  men,  that  is,  the  Christian,  and  in  this  teach- 
ing educate  their  subjects.  This  teaching  is  in  its  essence 
opposed,  not  only  to  every  murder,  but  even  to  every  vio- 
lence, and  so,  to  be  able  to  control  the  masses  and  be 
considered  Christian,  the  governments  had  to  distort  Chris- 
tianity and  to  conceal  its  true  meaning  from  the  masses 
and  thus  to  deprive  men  of  the  good  which  Christ  brought 

to  them. 

This  distortion  of  Christianity  took  place  long  ago,  in 
the  time  of  the  malefactor,  Emperor  Constantine,  who  for 
this  was  canonized  a  saint.  All  the  subsequent  govern- 
ments, especially  our  own  Eussian  government,  have  tried 
with  aU  their  strength  to  maintain  this  distortion  and  not 
to  allow  the  masses  to  see  the  true  meaning  of  Christianity, 
because,  if  they  saw  it,  they  would  come  to  understand 
that  the  governments,  with  their  taxes,  soldiers,  prisons, 
gallows,  and  cheating  priests,  are  not  only  no  pillars  of 
Christianity,  such  as  they  pretend  to  be,  but  its  greatest 

enemies. 

In  consequence  of  this  distortion  there  result  those 


LETTER    TO    A    CORPORAL  451 

deceptions  whicli    startled  you  so    much,  and    all  those 
terrible  calamities  from  which  the  masses  suffer. 

The  masses  are  crushed,  robbed,  impoverished,  ignorant, 
—  they  are  dying  out.  Why  ?  Because  the  land  is  in 
the  hands  of  the  rich ;  because  the  masses  are  enslaved 
in  factories,  in  plants,  in  their  daily  occupations ;  because 
they  are  fleeced  for  the  taxes,  and  the  price  for  their 
labour  is  lowered,  and  the  price  for  what  they  need  is 
raised.  How  can  they  be  freed  ?  Shall  the  land  again 
be  taken  away  from  the  rich  ?  But  if  that  is  done,  the 
soldiers  will  come,  will  kill  off  the  rioters,  and  will  lock 
them  up  in  prisons.  Shall  the  factories,  the  plants,  be 
taken  away  ?  The  same  will  happen.  Stick  out  in  a 
strike  ?  But  that  will  never  happen,  —  the  rich  can  stick 
out  longer  than  the  labourers,  and  the  armies  will  always 
be  on  the  side  of  the  capitaHsts.  The  masses  will  never 
get  away  from  that  want  in  which  they  are  held,  so  long 
as  the  armies  shall  be  in  the  power  of  the  ruling  classes. 

But  who  are  the  armies,  which  hold  the  masses  in  this 
slavery  ?  Who  are  those  sokUers  who  will  shoot  at  the 
peasants  who  have  taken  possession  of  the  land,  and  at 
the  strikers,  if  they  do  not  disperse,  and  at  the  smugglers, 
who  import  wares  without  paying  the  revenue,  —  who 
will  put  into  prisons  and  keep  there  those  who  refuse 
to  pay  the  taxes  ?  These  soldiers  are  the  same  peas- 
ants whose  land  has  been  taken  away,  the  same  strikers, 
who  want  to  raise  their  wages,  the  same  payers  of  the 
taxes,  who  want  to  be  freed  from  these  payments. 

Why  do  these  men  shoot  at  their  brothers  ?  Because 
it  has  been  impressed  upon  them  that  the  oath  which 
they  are  compelled  to  take  upon  entering  military  service 
is  obligatory  for  them,  and  that  they  may  not  kill  men  in 
general,  but  may  kill  them  by  command  of  the  authorities, 
that  is,  the  same  deception  which  startled  so  much  is 
practised  upon  them.  But  here  arises  the  question, — 
how  can  people  of  sound   mind,  who  frequently  know 


452  LETTER   TO    A    CORPORAL 

the  rudiments  and  are  even  educated,  believe  in  such  a 
palpable  lie  ?  No  matter  how  little  educated  a  man  may 
be,  he  none  the  less  cannot  help  knowing  that  Christ  did 
not  permit  any  murder,  but  taught  meekness,  humility, 
forgiveness  of  offences,  love  of  enemies;  he  cannot  help 
but  see  that  on  the  basis  of  the  Christian  teaching  he 
cannot  make  a  promise  in  advance  that  he  will  kill  all 
those  whom  he  is  commanded  to  kill. 

The  question  is,  how  can  people  of  sound  mind  believe, 
as   all  those  who  are  now  doing    military  service  have 
beheved,  in    such    an   obvious   deception?     The    answer 
to  the  question  is  this,  that  people  are  not  deceived  by 
this  one  deception  alone,  but  have  been  prepared  for  it 
from  childhood  by  a  whole  series  of  deceptions,  a  whole 
system  of  deceptions,  which  is  called  the  Orthodox  Church, 
and  which  is  nothing  but  the  coarsest  kind  of  idolatry. 
According  to  this  faith  men  are  taught  that  God  is  triune, 
that  besides  this  triune  God  there  is  also   a  heavenly 
queen,  and  that  in  addition  to  this  queen  there  are  also 
all  kinds  of  saints,  whose  bodies  have  not  decayed,  and 
that  in  addition  to  the  saints  there  are  also  the  images  of 
the  Gods  and  of  the  queen  of  heaven,  before  which  tapers 
have  to  be  placed  and  prayers  made  with  the  hands,  and 
that  the  most  important  and  holy  thing  on  earth  is  the 
pap  which  the  priest  makes  on  Sundays  back  of  the  par- 
tition out  of  wine  and  bread,  that  after  the  priest  has  whis- 
pered something  over  this,  the  wine  will  not  be  wine  and 
the  bread  will  not  be  bread,  but  the  blood  and  body  of  one 
of  the  triune  Gods,  and  so  forth.     All  that  is  so  stupid 
and  senseless  that  it  is  absolutely  impossible  to  understand 
what  it  all  means,  and,  indeed,  those  who  teach  this  faith 
command  us  not  to  understand,  but  to  believe  it ;  and  the 
people,  who  have  been  trained  from  childhood  to  believe 
this,  believe  any  senseless  thing  that  they  may  be  told. 
But  after  men  are  so  stultified  that  they  believe  that  God 
is  hanging  in  the  corner  or  is  sitting  in  the  piece  of  pap 


LETTER   TO   A    CORPOKAL  453 

which  the  priest  is  giving  them  in  a  spoon,  that  it  is  use- 
ful for  this  life  and  for  the  life  to  come  to  kiss  a  board  or 
the  rehcs  and  to  place  tapers  before  them,  they  are  called 
upon  to  do  military  service,  and  there  they  are  deceived 
any  way  they  are  to  be  deceived,  by  being  compelled  first 
of  all  to  swear  on  the  Gospel  (which  prohibits  swearing) 
that  they  will  do  what  is  prohibited  in  this  Gospel,  and 
then,  by  teaching  them  that  it  is  not  a  sin  to  kill  men 
by  the  command  of  the  authorities,  but  that  it  is  a  sin 
not  to  obey  the  authorities,  and  so  forth. 

Thus  the  deception  of  the  soldiers,  which  consists  in 
this,  that  they  are  impressed  with  the  idea  that  it  is  pos- 
sible without  sinning  to  kill  men  by  command  of  the 
authorities,  does  not  stand  alone,  but  is  connected  with  a 
whole  system  of  deceptions,  without  which  this  particular 
deception  would  be  ineffective. 

Only  a  man  who  is  completely  stupefied  by  that  false 
faith,  called  Orthodox,  which  is  given  out  to  him  as  being 
Christian,  is  able  to  believe  that  it  is  no  sin  for  a  Chris- 
tian to  enter  the  army,  promising  blindly  to  obey  any 
man  who  will  consider  himself  higher  in  rank,  and,  at  the 
command  of  another  man,  to  learn  to  kill  and  to  commit 
this  most  terrible  crime,  which  is  prohibited  by  all  the 
laws. 

A  man  who  is  free  from  the  deception  of  the  so-called 
Orthodox,  pseudo-Christian  faith  wiU  never  believe  this. 

For  this  reason  the  so-called  sectarians,  that  is,  the 
Christians  who  reject  the  doctrine  of  Orthodoxy  and 
acknowledge  Christ's  teaching,  as  it  is  expounded  in  the 
Gospels,  and  especially  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
never  fall  a  prey  to  this  deception,  and  have  always 
refused  to  do  military  service,  recognizing  it  as  incompat- 
ible with  Christianity  and  preferring  to  suffer  all  kinds  of 
tortures,  as  is  now  done  by  hundreds  and  thousands  of 
men,  —  in  Russia  by  the  Dukhobors  and  Milkers;  in 
Austria  by  the  Nazarenes;  in  Sweden,  Switzerland,  and 


454  LETTER    TO    A    CORPORAL 

Germany  by  the  Evangelists.  The  government  knows 
this  and  so  follows  notliiug  with  such  terror  and  atten- 
tion as  that  the  general  ecclesiastic  deception,  without 
which  its  power  is  not  possible,  shall  be  practised  from 
earliest  childhood  on  all  the  children  and  shall  be  con- 
stantly maintained  in  such  a  way  that  not  one  man  can 
escape  it.  The  government  permits  anything,  drunken- 
ness and  debauchery  (it  not  only  permits,  but  even 
encourages  drunkenness  and  debauchery, — ^it  helps  in 
the  stultification),  but  it  is  violently  opposed  to  allowing 
men  to  free  themselves  from  the  deception  and  free  others 
from  it. 

The  Eussian  government  practises  this  deception  with 
particular  cruelty  and  harshness.  It  commands  all  its 
subjects,  threatening  them  with  punishment  in  case  of 
non-compliance,  to  have  all  their  children  baptized,  while 
they  are  babes,  into  the  deceptive,  so-called  Orthodox 
faith.  When  the  children  are  baptized,  that  is,  are  con- 
sidered Orthodox,  they  are,  under  threat  of  criminal  pros- 
ecution, prohibited  from  discussing  the  faith  into  which 
they  were  baptized  without  their  will,  and  for  such  a 
discussion  of  the  faith,  as  well  as  for  departing  from  it 
and  passing  over  to  another  faith,  they  are  subject  to 
punishments. 

So  it  cannot  be  said  of  all  the  Eussians  that  they  believe 
in  the  Orthodox  faith,  —  they  do  not  know  whether  they 
believe  or  not,  because  they  were  turned  into  that  faith 
when  they  were  still  babes,  and  because  they  hold  to  this 
enforced  faith  through  fear  of  punishment.  All  the  Eus- 
sians are  caught  into  Orthodoxy  through  fell  deception 
and  are  kept  in  it  through  cruel  violence. 

By  making  use  of  the  power  which  it  has,  the  gov- 
ernment produces  and  maintains  the  deception,  and  the 
deception  maintains  its  power. 

And  so  the  only  means  for  freeing  men  from  all  the 
calamities  consists  in  freeing  them  from  that  false  faith 


LETTER    TO    A    CORrORAL  455 

which  is  inculcated  upon  them  by  the  government,  and  in 
impressing  upon  them  the  true  Christian  teaching, 'which 
is  concealed  from  them  by  this  false  doctrine.  The  true 
Christian  teaching  is  very  simple,  clear,  and  accessible,  as 
Christ  Himself  has  said.  But  it  is  simple  and  accessible 
only  when  a  man  is  free  from  that  lie  in  which  we  are 
all  brought  up,  and  which  is  given  out  to  us  as  divine. 

It  is  impossible  to  fill  a  vessel  with  what  is  important, 
if  it  is  already  tilled  with  what  is  useless.  It  is  necessary 
first  to  pour  out  what  is  useless.  Even  so  it  is  with  the 
acquisition  of  the  true  Christian  teaching.  We  must  first 
understand  that  all  the  stories  about  how  God  created 
the  world  six  thousand  years  ago,  and  how  Adam  sinned, 
and  how  the  human  race  fell,  and  how  the  son  of  God  and 
God  Himself,  born  of  a  virgin,  came  into  the  world  and 
redeemed  it,  and  all  the  fables  of  the  Bible  and  of  the 
Gospel,  and  all  the  lives  of  the  saints,  and  the  stories  of 
miracles  and  relics,  are  nothing  but  a  coarse  mixing  up 
of  the  superstitions  of  the  Jewish  nation  with  the  decep- 
tions of  the  clergy.  Only  for  a  man  who  is  completely 
free  from  these  deceptions  can  the  simple  and  clear 
teaching  of  Christ,  which  demands  no  interpretations  and 
is  self -comprehensible,  be  accessible  and  comprehensible. 

This  teaching  says  nothing  about  the  beginning  or  the 
end  of  the  world,  nor  of  God  and  His  intentions,  in  gen- 
eral nothing  about  what  we  cannot  know  and  need  not 
know,  but  speaks  only  of  what  a  man  has  to  do  in  order 
to  be  saved,  that  is,  in  order  in  the  best  manner  possible 
to  pass  the  life  into  which  he  has  come  in  this  world, 
from  his  birth  to  his  death.  For  this  purpose  we  need 
only  treat  others  as  we  wish  to  be  treated.  In  this  alone 
does  the  law  and  the  prophets  consist,  as  Christ  has  said. 
To  do  so,  we  need  no  images,  no  relics,  no  divine  services, 
no  priests,  no  sacred  histories,  no  catechisms,  no  govern- 
ments, but,  on  the  contrary,  a  liberation  from  all  that, 
-—because  only  the  man  who  is  free  from  those  fables 


456  LETTER   TO    A    COEPORAL 

which  the  priests  give  out  to  him  as  the  only  truth,  aud 
who  is  not  bound  to  other  people  by  promises  to  act  as 
they  want  Mm  to  act,  can  treat  others  as  he  wishes  to  be 
treated  by  them.  Only  in  that  case  will  a  man  be  able 
to  do,  not  his  own  will,  nor  that  of  others,  but  the  will  of 
God. 

But  the  will  of  God  consists,  not  in  fighting  and  op- 
pressing others,  but  in  recognizing  all  men  as  brothers  and 
serving  one  another. 

Such  are  the  thoughts  that  your  letter  evoked  in  me. 
I  shall  be  very  glad  if  they  shall  contriljute  to  the  eluci- 
dation of  the  questions  in  which  you  are  interested. 

1899. 


VmO   IS   TO   BLAME? 

(On  the  Transvaal  War) 

...  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  answer  you,  because  youf 
pamphlets  are  written  very  well  and  very  sincerely,  with 
the  exception  of  the  third,  in  regard  to  which  I  agree 
with  your  relatives.  That  pamphlet  is  weak,  not  because 
it  is  too  blunt,  but  because  it  does  not  bring  out  with 
sufficient  clearness  the  repellent  features  of  one  of  the 
most  disgusting,  if  not  comical,  representatives  of  emperor- 
ship,—  William  II. 

But  no  matter  how  well  your  articles  are  written,  I  do 
not  agree  with  their  subject  matter ;  I  do  not  exactly  dis- 
agree, but  I  cannot  condemn  that  which  you  condemn. 

If  two  men  ha^ing  got  drunk  in  an  inn  come  to  blows 
while  playing  cards,  I  will  not  make  up  my  mind  to  con- 
demn one  of  them,  no  matter  how  convincing  the  proofs 
of  the  other  may  be.  The  cause  of  the  bad  acts  of  one 
or  the  other  does  not  by  any  means  lie  in  the  justice  of 
one  of  them,  but  in  this,  that,  instead  of  working  or  rest- 
ing calmly  together,  they  found  it  necessary  to  drink  wine 
and  play  cards  in  the  inn.  Similarly,  when  I  am  told 
that  in  any  Idnd  of  a  war  which  has  broken  out  it  is 
exclusively  one  party  that  is  to  blame,  I  can  never  agree 
to  this.  We  may  admit  that  one  side  has  acted  worse, 
but  the  discussion  as  to  which  side  acts  worse  does  in  no 
way  explain  the  underlying  cause  of  why  such  a  terrible, 
cruel,  and  inhuman  phenomenon  as  war  is  taking  place. 
The  causes  are  quite  obvious  to  any  man  who  does  not 
shut  his  eyes,  as  in  the  present  Transvaal  War  so  also  in 

457 


458  WHO    IS    TO    BLAME  ? 

all  the  late  wars.  There  are  three  such  causes :  (1)  the 
unequal  distribution  of  property,  that  is,  the  robbing  of 
one  class  of  people  by  another,  (2)  the  existence  of  a 
military  class,  that  is,  of  people  educated  and  destined 
for  murder,  and  (3)  the  false,  for  the  most  part  con- 
sciously deceptive,  religious  teaching,  in  which  the  young 
generations  are  forcibly  educated. 

And  so  I  think  that  it  is  not  only  useless,  but  even 
harmful  to  look  for  the  cause  of  wars  in  a  Chamberlain, 
a  William,  and  so  forth,  thus  concealing  from  ourselves 
the  true  causes,  which  are  much  nearer,  and  in  which  we 
ourselves  take  part.  We  can  only  be  indignant  with  a 
Chamberlain  or  a  William,  and  scold  them;  but  our 
anger  and  scolding  will  only  make  bad  blood  for  us, 
without  changing  the  course  of  events:  a  Chamberlain 
and  a  William  are  blind  tools  of  forces  which  lie  far 
behind  them.  They  act  as  they  must  act,  and  cannot  act 
otherwise.  The  whole  of  history  is  a  series  of  just  such 
acts  of  all  the  political  persons  as  the  Transvaal  War,  and 
so  it  is  quite  useless  and  even  impossible  to  be  angry  at 
them  and  condemn  them,  when  we  see  the  true  causes  of 
their  activity  and  when  we  feel  that  we  are  ourselves 
to  blame  for  this  or  that  activity  of  theirs,  according  to 
how  we  look  upon  the  three  fundamental  causes  which  I 
have  mentioned. 

So  long  as  we  are  going  to  enjoy  exclusive  wealth, 
while  the  masses  of  the  nation  are  crushed  by  labour, 
there  will  always  be  wars  for  markets,  for  gold  fields,  and 
so  forth,  which  we  need  in  order  to  maintain  our  exclu- 
sive wealth.  So  much  the  more  inevitable  will  be  the 
wars,  so  long  as  we  are  going  to  take  part  in  the  military 
class  and  will  permit  its  existence,  —  if  we  will  not 
struggle  with  all  our  strength  against  it.  We  either 
ourselves  serve  in  the  military  caste,  or  recognize  it  not 
only  as  indispensable,  but  also  as  praiseworthy,  and  then, 
when  war  breaks  out,  we  accuse  some  Chamberlain  of  it. 


WnO   IS   TO   BLAME?  459 

and  so  forth.  Above  all  else,  there  will  be  war,  so  long 
as  we  are  goiug  to  preach,  aud  even  without  indignation 
and  provocation  to  permit,  that  corruption  of  Christianity, 
which  is  called  the  ecclesiastic  Christianity,  and  under 
which  is  possible  a  Christ-loving  army,  the  blessing  of 
cannon,  and  the  recognition  -of  war  as  Christian  and  just. 
"We  teach  our  children  this  religion  and  ourselves  profess 
it,  aud  then  say  either  that  Chamberlain  or  Krtiger  is  to 
lilame,  because  people  are  kilhng  one  another. 

For  that  reason  I  do  not  agree  with  you  and  cannot 
rebuke  the  bUnd  tools  of  ignorance  and  evil,  but  see  the 
cause  in  manifestations  in  which  I  myself  can  contribute 
to  the  diminution  or  increase  of  evil.  To  contribute  to 
the  fraternal  equalization  of  property,  to  make  the  least 
use  of  the  privileges  which  have  fallen  to  my  share ;  in 
no  way  to  take  part  in  military  affairs,  to  destroy  that 
hypnosis  by  means  of  which  people,  turning  into  hired 
murderers,  think  that  they  are  doing  a  good  thing,  if  they 
serve  in  the  army ;  and  chiefly,  to  profess  the  rational 
Christian  teaching,  trying  one's  best  to  destroy  that  cruel 
deception  of  the  false  Christianity  in  which  the  young 
generations  are  forcibly  brought  up,  —  in  this  threefold 
work,  it  seems  to  me,  lies  the  duty  of  every  man  who 
wishes  to  serve  the  good  and  wdio  is  justly  provoked  at 
that  terrible  war,  which  provoked  you,  too. 

MoscoWt  Decemher  Jf,  1899. 


ON   SUICIDE 

The  question  as  to  whether  a  man  has  the  right  to  kill 
himself  is  incorrectly  put.  There  can  be  no  question  as 
to  right.  If  he  can,  he  has  the  right.  I  think  that  the 
possibility  of  killing  oneself  is  a  safety-valve.  With 
this  possibility  a  man  has  no  right  (here  the  expression 
"  to  have  right "  is  in  place)  to  say  that  life  is  intolerable 
to  him.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  live,  so  I  will  kill 
myself,  and  then  there  will  be  no  one  to  complain  of  the 
intolerableness  of  life.  Man  is  given  the  opportunity  to 
kill  himself,  and  so  he  can  (has  the  right  to)  kill  himself, 
and  he  continually  makes  use  of  it,  killing  himself  in 
duels,  in  war,  by  means  of  dissipation,  whiskey,  tobacco, 
opium,  and  so  forth.  The  question  can  be  only  as  to 
whether  it  is  rational  and  moral  (the  rational  and  the 
moral  always  coincide)  to  kill  oneself. 

No,  it  is  not  rational ;  it  is  just  as  irrational  as  to  cut 
off  the  suckers  of  a  plant  which  you  want  to  kill :  the 
plant  will  not  perish,  but  will  only  grow  irregularly. 

Life  is  not  destructible,  —  it  is  outside  time  and  space, 
and  so  death  can  only  change  the  form,  cut  off  its  mani- 
festation in  this  life.  And  having  cut  it  off  in  this  world, 
I,  in  the  first  place,  do  not  know  whether  its  manifesta- 
tion in  another  world  will  be  more  agreeable  to  me,  and, 
in  the  second  place,  I  deprive  myself  of  the  possibility  of 
learning  and  acquiring  for  my  ego  everything  which  it 
could  acquire  in  this  world.  Besides,  and  above  all  else, 
it  is  irrational,  because,  interrupting  my  life,  —  because  it 
seems  disagreeable  to  me,  —  I  only  show  that  I  have  a 

460 


ON    SUICIDE  461 

perverse  conception  of  the  destiny  of  this  life,  hy  assum- 
ing that  its  destiny  is  my  enjoyment,  whereas  its  destiny 
is,  on  the  one  hand,  personal  perfection,  on  the  other,  a 
ministration  to  that  work  which  is  accomphshed  by  the 
whole  life  of  the  world.  For  the  same  reason  suicide  is 
immoral :  life  is  given  to  man  in  its  entirety,  and  he 
is  given  the  possibility  of  liviug  to  a  natural  death,  only 
on  condition  of  his  ministration  to  the  life  of  the  world, 
and  he,  making  use  of  life  only  to  the  extent  to  which  it 
is  agreeable  to  him,  refuses  to  serve  the  world  with  it,  the 
moment  it  becomes  disagreeable  to  him,  whereas,  in  all 
probability,  this  ministration  began  at  the  very  moment 
when  life  became  unpleasant.  Every  work  at  first  appears 
unpleasant. 

In  Optin  Cloister  a  paralyzed  monk,  who  had  the  use 
of  only  his  left  arm,  lay  for  more  than  thirty  years  on  the 
floor.  The  doctors  said  that  he  must  suffer  very  much, 
but  he  not  only  did  not  complain  of  his  condition,  but 
constantly  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  looking  at  the 
images,  and  smiling,  expressed  his  gratefulness  to  God 
and  joy  at  that  spark  of  life  which  was  glowing  within 
him.  Tens  of  thousands  of  visitors  saw  him,  and  it  is 
hard  to  imagine  all  the  good  which  spread  over  the  world 
from  this  man,  who  was  deprived  of  every  possibihty  of 
work.  No  doubt  this  man  did  more  good  than  thousands 
and  thousands  of  healthy  people,  who  imagine  that  they 
are  serving  the  world  in  various  institutions. 

So  long  as  there  is  life  in  man,  he  can  perfect  himself 
and  serve  the  world.  But  he  can  serve  the  world  only 
by  perfecting  himself,  and  he  can  perfect  himself  only  by 
serving  the  world. 

1900  (?). 


A   MESSAGE   TO   THE   AMEEICAN   PEOPLE 

(rrom  a  letter  to  Mr.  Edward  Garuett  i) 

When  I  read  your  letter  it  seemed  to  me  impossible 
that  I  could  send  any  message  to  the  American  people. 
But  thinking  over  it  at  night,  it  came  to  me  that,  if  I  had 
to  address  the  American  people,  I  should  like  to  thank 
them  for  the  great  help  I  have  received  from  their  writers 
who  flourished  about  the  fifties.  I  would  mention  Garri- 
son, Parker,  Emerson,  Ballou,  and  Thoreau,  not  as  the 
greatest,  but  as  those  who,  I  think,  specially  influenced 
me.  Other  names  are  Channing,  Whittier,  Lowell,  Walt 
Whitman  — a  bright  constellation,  such  as  is  rarely  to  be 
found  in  the  literatures  of  the  world. 

And  I  should  like  to  ask  the  American  people  why  they 
do  not  pay  more  attention  to  these  voices  (hardly  to  be 
replaced  by  those  of  financial  and  industrial  milhonaires, 
or  successful  generals  and  admirals),  and  continue  the 
good  work  in  which  they  made  such  hopeful  progress. 

1  Quoted,  with  the  editor's  permission,  from  The  North  American 
Eevlew,  April,  1901. 


THREE  LETTERS  ON  REASON,  FAITH,  AND 

PRAYER 


.  .  .  You  ask  what  my  Christian  confession  of  faith 
consists  in. 

You  have  read  the  Short  Exposition  of  the  Gospel  and 
so  you  know  how  I  understand  Christ's  teaching. 

But  if  you  wish  to  know  in  what  I  see  the  chief  mean- 
ing of  the  teaching,  which  I  should  hke  to  transmit  to  all 
men,  in  which  I  should  like  to  see  all  children  educated, 
—  I  would  say  that  it  consists  in  this,  that  man  came 
into  the  world,  not  by  his  own  will,  but  by  the  will  of 
Him  who  sent  him  into  the  world.  But  for  man  to  know 
what  He  who  sent  him  into  the  world  wants  of  him,  — 
He  implanted  in  him  reason,  by  means  of  which  man,  if 
he  only  wants  to,  is  always  able  to  know  the  will  of  God, 
that  is,  what  is  wanted  of  him  by  Him  who  sent  him  into 
the  world. 

The  Pharisees  and  scribes  of  our  time  always  say  that 
we  must  not  believe  our  reason,  because  it  will  deceive 
us,  but  that  we  should  believe  them,  and  they  will  not 
deceive  us.  But  they  tell  an  untruth.  If  we  are  to  be- 
lieve men  and,  as  it  says  in  the  Gospel,  the  traditions  of 
men,  we  shall  all  creep  in  different  directions,  like  blind 
puppies,  and  shall  hate  one  another,  as  is  really  the  case 
at  present :  a  church  Christian  hates  a  Mohammedan,  a 
Mohammedan  hates  a  Christian,  and  the  Christians  hate 
one  another,  —  an  Orthodox  hates  a  Catholic  or  an  Old 
Believer,  an  Old  Believer  hates  an  Orthodox,  and  so  forth. 

463 


464  REASON,    FAITH,   AND   PRAYER 

But  if  we  hold  what  reason  dictates  to  us,  we  shall  all 
unite,  because  reason  is  one  and  the  same  with  all  men, 
and  nothing  but  reason  unites  men  and  does  not  hinder 
the  manifestation  of  mutual  love,  which  is  proper  to  men. 

Keason  unites  us,  not  only  with  men  who  live  at  the 
same  time  with  us,  but  also  with  those  who  lived  thou- 
sands of  years  before,  and  with  those  who  will  live  after 
us.  Thus  we  make  use  of  everything  produced  by  the 
reason  of  Isaiah,  Christ,  Buddha,  Socrates,  Confucius,  and 
all  other  men  who  lived  before  us  and  believed  in  reason 
and  served  it.  Do  to  others  as  you  wish  that  others 
should  do  to  you;  do  not  avenge  evil  done  to  you  by 
men,  but  pay  good  for  evil ;  be  continent,  be  chaste ;  not 
only  do  not  kill  men,  but  be  not  even  angry  with  them ; 
live  in  peace  with  all  men,  and  many  things  more,  —  all 
that  is  the  production  of  reason,  and  all  that  has  been 
preached  alike  by  Buddhists,  and  Confucianists,  and 
Christians,  and  Taoists,  and  the  Greek  and  Egyptian 
sages,  and  is  preached  by  all  good  men  of  our  time,  and 
all  agree  upon  all  that. 

And  so,  I  repeat,  the  chief  significance  of  the  Christian 
teaching,  in  my  opinion,  consists  in  what  is  expressed,  in 
the  Gospel  in  the  parable  about  the  labourers  in  the  vine- 
yard who  were  given  the  use  of  the  vineyard,  for  which 
they  were  to  pay  the  master,  but  they  imagined  that  the 
vineyard  was  their  own ;  and  in  the  parable  about  the 
talents.  The  meaning  is  this,  that  men  must  do  the  will 
of  Him  who  sent  them  into  life,  and  this  will  consists  in 
this,  that  men,  as  is  said  in  another  place,  should  be  as 
perfect  as  their  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect,  that  is,  should 
as  much  as  possible  approach  this  higher  perfection. 

That  God's  will  is  only  this  we  are  also  shown  by  our 
reason,  and  we  are  shown  this  so  clearly  that  there  can 
be  no  discussion  about  it,  and  no  doubt.  Any  man  who 
will  think  about  it  cannot  help  but  see  that  in  all  affairs 
of  life  a  man    may  meet  and  does  meet  obstacles,  and 


REASON,    FAITH,    AND    PRAYER  465 

only  in  one  thing  does  a  man  encounter  no  obstacles,  — 
in  his  desire  to  perfect  himself,  to  purify  his  soul  from 
evil,  and  to  do  good  to  everything  living.  Nor  is  it 
stopped,  or  impaired,  or  interfered  with  by  death,  which 
stops,  impairs,  and  deprives  of  meaning  every  other 
worldly  matter.  Death  does  not  stop  or  impair  this 
matter,  because  a  man  who  does  the  will  of  Him  who 
sent  him,  knowing  that  the  work  done  by  him  is  needed 
by  the  Master,  calmly  does  it  here  so  long  as  he  has  the 
strength  to  do  it,  and  he  knows  that  death  does  not  des- 
troy him,  nor  his  relation  to  the  Master,  and  that  there, 
though  in  a  different  form,  he  will  be  in  dependence  on 
the  Master  and  will  have  the  same  joy  of  a  greater  and 
ever  greater  participation  in  the  hfe  and  the  work  of 
the  Master,  that  is,  God. 

Thus  do  I  understand  Christ's  teaching,  and  thus  I 
should  like  to  see  all  men  understand  it  and  the  children 
brought  up,  so  that  they  may  not  take  upon  faith  what 
they  are  told  about  God  and  about  life,  but  may  believe 
what  they  believe,  not  Ijecause  this  is  given  out  as  the 
utterances  of  the  prophets  and  of  Christ,  but  because 
their  reason  tells  them  so.  Reason  is  older  and  more 
reliable  than  all  Scriptures  and  traditions,  —  it  existed 
even  before  there  were  any  traditions  and  Scriptures,  and 
it  is  given  to  each  of  us  directly  from  God. 

The  words  of  the  Gospel  that  every  sin  will  be  for- 
given except  blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  in  my 
opinion,  have  direct  reference  to  the  assertion  that  we 
must  not  trust  reason.  Indeed,  if  we  do  not  trust  reason, 
which  is  given  us  from  God,  whom  shall  we  believe? 
Shall  we  beheve  those  men  who  want  to  make  us  believe 
what  is  inconsistent  with  reason,  which  is  given  from 
God?  .  .  . 

2 

.  .  .  You  ask  what  can  give  a  feeble,  corrupt,  and 
debauched  man,  such  as  we  all  are,  amidst  the  tempta- 


466  KEASON,    FAITH,    AND    PRAYER 

tions  surrounding  him  on  all  sides,  the  strength  to  live  a 
Christian  life  ? 

Instead  of  answering,  and  before  answering,  this  ques- 
tion, I  will  ask  what  it  really  means.  We  are  so  used  to 
this  question  that  it  appears  to  us  quite  natural  and  intel- 
ligible, whereas  it  is  not  only  not  natural  and  not  even 
intelligible,  but,  on  the  contrary,  extremely  surprising  and 
strange  for  any  sensible  man  who  is  not  brought  up  in 
the  superstitions  of  the  church  faith. 

Why  is  it  that  a  blacksmith  who  is  forging  iron,  or  a 
ploughman  who  is  ploughing  a  field,  does  not  ask  where 
he  shall  find  the  strength  for  the  achievement  of  the  work 
undertaken  by  him,  but  does  it  to  the  best  of  his  ability, 
errs  and  tries  to  correct  his  error,  gets  tired,  stops,  puts 
his  work  aside  for  awhile,  rests  himself,  and  again  takes 
up  his  work  ?  Is  not  every  slave  of  God  who  tries  to  live 
a  Christian  life  in  the  same  condition  ?  Even  so  a  man, 
if  he  is  sincere,  will  to  the  best  of  his  ability  live  a  Chris- 
tian life,  do  the  will  of  God,  and,  if  he  shall  make 
mistakes,  will  mend  his  ways,  and  he  will  grow  tired, 
and  rest,  and  again  take  up  the  same  business  of  his 
life,  —  approaching  to  the  best  of  his  ability  the "  per- 
fection of  the  heavenly  Father  which  is  pointed  out  to 
him. 

The  question  as  to  where  a  man  is  to  find  the  strength 
for  a  Christian  life  shows  only  that  people  have  been 
assured  that  there  are  certain  special  means  by  means  of 
which  people  may,  without  an  hourly  intensification  of 
struggle,  falls,  repentance,  risings,  and  again  falls,  and 
again  risings,  attain  the  necessary  strength  for  a  good, 
holy  life.  This  superstition,  that  a  man  does  not  ap- 
proach perfection  by  his  own  slow  efforts,  but  is  able  to 
purify  himself  at  once  and  become  holy,  is  one  of  the 
most  terrible  and  most  harmful  delusions,  and  it  is  this 
that  is  energetically  preached  by  all  the  ecclesiastic  faiths. 
Some  assure  their  disciples  that  by  means  of  the  sacra- 


REASOX,    FAITH,    AND    PRATER  467 

ments  of  baptism,  confession,  and  communion  a  man  may 
free  himself  from  sins ;  others  assert  that  what  saves  a 
man  from  sins  is  his  belief  in  redemption,  in  this,  that 
Christ  the  God  purified  us  with  His  blood.  Either  of 
them  teach  that  we  are  also  freed-  by  supplicatory  prayer 
to  God  about  His  forgiving  us  our  sins  and  making  us 
good,  and  not  by  our  trying  to  become  better. 

This  superstition  is  very  harmful,  because  it  includes  a 
deception. 

This  deception,  in  the  first  place,  is  this,  that  a  man 
may  become  entirely  pure  and  holy,  whereas  this  is 
impossible  for  a  live  man.  A  man  cannot  be  perfect 
and  sinless,  —  he  can  only  more  or  less  approach  per- 
fection, basing  on  this  approach  the  whole  meaning  of 
his  life.  (I  even  think  that  life  after  death  will  consist, 
though  in  an  entirely  different  form,  in  the  same  approach 
to  perfection.)  In  this  personal  effort  at  perfection  does 
the  whole  meaning  and  joy  of  life  consist.  And  so,  if 
,  perfection  were  to  be  attained  by  external  means,  we 
should  be  deprived  of  the  very  essence  of  life. 

The  deception,  in  the  second  place,  is  this,  that  man's 
forces  are  drawn  away  from  what  he  ought  to  do,  —  to 
work  over  himself,  —  and  are  directed  upon  what  he 
ought  not  to  do.  For  us  to  depend  on  this,  that  the 
sacraments,  or  the  belief  in  redemption,  or  prayer  will 
contribute  to  our  perfection,  is  the  same  as  though  a 
blacksmith,  with  iron  and  hammer  in  his  hands,  and  hav- 
ing an  an\dl  and  a  hot  fire,  should,  instead  of  striking  the 
iron,  be  trying  to  find  a  means  for  forging  it,  or  praying 
to  God  to  give  him  strength  for  work. 

We  could  pray  to  God  and  try  to  invent  means  for 
perfecting  ourselves,  only  if  certain  obstacles  were  put  in 
our  way  and  we  ourselves  did  not  have  the  strength  to  over- 
come them.  In  the  matter  of  perfection,  or  of  the  Chris- 
tian life,  or  of  the  fulfilment  of  God's  will,  God  does  not 
demand  of  us  what  we  cannot  do,  but,  on  the  contrary. 


468  REASON,    FAITH,   AND    PRAYER 

has  seen  to  it  that  we  have  everything  we  need  for  the 
fulfilment  of  His  will. 

We  are  here,  in  this  world,  as  in  a  hostelry,  in  which 
the  master  has  arranged  everything  which  we,  the  travel- 
lers, need,  and  has  gone  away,  leaving  instructions  as  to 
how  we  should  act  in  this  temporary  refuge.  Everything 
we  need  is  at  hand ;  so  what  means  are  we  to  discover 
and  what  are  we  to  ask  about  ?  All  we  have  to  do  is  to 
fulfil  what  we  are  prescribed  to  do.  Even  so  it  is  in  the 
spiritual  world,  —  everything  we  need  is  given  to  us,  and 
the  rest  depends  upon  us. 

Of  course,  if  we  want  to  be  saints  at  once,  or  if  we 
wish  to  feel  ourselves  justified,  and,  besides,  rich,  —  if 
we  wish  that  we  and  our  friends  should  never  grow  ill 
or  die,  that  we  may  always  have  good  crops,  and  that  our 
enemies  may  be  destroyed,  —  we  must  ask  God  for  all 
those  things,  just  as  they  ask  for  these  things  in  our 
churches.  But  God  has  intended  nothing  of  the  kind  for 
us :  He  not  only  has  not  prescribed  to  us  to  be  righteous 
and  sinless,  but,  on  the  contrary,  has  given  us  life,  the 
only  meaning  of  which  is  that  we  should  free  ourselves 
from  our  sins  and  approach  Him  ;  and  He  has  not  in- 
tended us  to  be  rich,  without  disease  and  immortal,  but 
has  given  us  trials,  —  poverty,  diseases,  the  death  of  our 
friends,  and  our  own  death,  —  for  the  very  purpose  that 
we  might  not  place  all  our  life  in  wealth,  health,  and  this 
temporal  life,  but  might  place  it  in  the  service  of  Him ; 
and  He  has  given  us  enemies,  not  that  we  might  desire 
their  ruin,  but  that  we  might  learn  to  destroy  the  enemies 
with  love ;  He  has  given  us  a  law  with  which  we  fare 
well,  if  we  fulfil  it.  Thus  we  have  no  reason  to  invent 
any  special  means  of  salvation  or  to  ask  God  for  any- 
thing. Everything  we  need  is  given  to  us,  if  we  shall 
only  follow  the  indications  of  our  conscience  and  of  God, 
as  expressed  in  the  Gospel. 

In  the  third  place,  the  deception  is  this,  —  and  by  this 


REASON,    FAITU,    AND    PRAYER  469 

it  is  harmful,  —  that  men,  having  come  to  believe  that 
they  are  not  able  with  their  own  strength  to  do  God's 
will  and  live  well,  stop  working  over  themselves,  and 
not  only  stop  working,  but  also  lose  the  possibihty  of 
perfecting  themselves.  A  man  need  but  assure  himself 
that  he  cannot  do  what  he  should  do,  and  his  arms  will 
drop,  and  he  will  indeed  be  unable  to  do  what  is  neces- 
sary. Let  a  man  convince  himself  that  he  is  sick,  and  he 
will  grow  sick.  Obsessed  persons  yell  for  the  very  reason 
that  they  believe  they  are  obsessed.  People  who  drink 
incontinently  do  not  reform,  because  they  are  conviaced 
that  they  cannot  control  themselves.  There  does  not 
exist  a  more  immoral  and  pernicious  doctrine  than  that  a 
man  cannot  perfect  himself  by  his  own  efforts. 

This  reflection  that  for  a  good  Christian  Hfe  one's  own 
efforts  are  not  sufficient,  but  that  some  external  force  is 
needed,  is  precisely  hke  the  one  according  to  which  (I 
wrote  you  about  it  in  my  first  letter)  reason  does  not 
suffice  for  the  cognition  of  the  truth,  but  external  proofs 
are  needed.  There  it  is  assumed  in  advance  that  there  is 
something  which  can  give  a  man  strength  to  live  a  Chris- 
tian hfe  and  do  God's  will;  and  here  it  is  assumed  in 
advance  that  there  exists  something  by  which  a  man  can 
know  for  certain  that  what  is  said  to  him  is  the  undoubted 
truth.  It  is  assumed  that  there  exists  a  means  for  cog- 
nizing truth,  the  full  and  perfect  truth,  —  outside  of  the 
personal  effort  of  the  mind.  But  that  is  as  impossible  as 
to  see  light  without  eyes.  The  truth  is  what  is  cognized 
through  effort  and  cannot  be  cognized  in  any  other  way. 
The  truth  which  is  cognized  by  human  reason  can  never 
be  perfect :  it  can  only  approach  perfect  truth.  Thus  the 
truth  may  be  the  highest  truth  accessible  to  man  at  a 
given  time,  but  can  never  be  perfect  for  all  times,  —  the 
indubitable  truth.  No  proposition  can  be  such  a  perfect 
truth  for  all  time,  for  this  reason,  if  for  no  other,  that  hfe, 
both  the  life  of  all  humanity  and  that  of  each  individual, 


470  REASON,    FAITH,    AND    PRATER 

passes  and  even  consists  in  the  attainment  of  more  and 
more  perfect  truth. 

The  perverse  and  insipid  conception  that  human  reason 
cannot  with  its  own  efforts  approach  trutli  is  due  to  the 
same  terrible  superstition  according  to  which  a  man  can- 
not without  any  aid  from  without  approach  the  fulfilment 
of  God's  will.  The  essence  of  this  superstition  is  this, 
that  the  full,  complete  truth  was  revealed  by  God  him- 
self :  for  the  Jews  it  was  revealed  on  Mount  Sinai,  and 
later  by  various  prophets ;  for  the  Christians  it  was 
revealed  by  Christ,  the  apostles,  ecumenical  councils,  the 
church ;  for  the  Brahmins  it  was  revealed  in  the  Vedas ; 
for  the  Buddhists  —  in  the  Tripitaka ;  for  the  Moham- 
medans —  in  the  Koran.  This  superstition  is  terrible,  in 
the  first  place,  because  it  distorts  the  very  conception  of  the 
truth  ;  in  the  second  place,  because,  having  once  recognized 
as  the  indubitable  truth  all  those  insipidities  and  abomina- 
tions which  are  accepted  as  God's  revelation  in  the  Scrip- 
tures, people  are  obliged  still  more  to  distort  common  sense, 
in  order  to  justify  all  these  abominations  and  insipidities ; 
and,  in  the  third  place,  because,  by  recognizing  the  infal- 
lible external  revelation  as  the  source  of  truth,  a  man 
ceases  to  believe  in  the  one  means  for  recognizing  the 
truth,  —  the  efforts  of  his  mind.  A  man  who  acts  thus 
does  what  a  man  would  do  in  search  of  a  path,  if,  instead 
of  making  every  effort  for  the  discovery  of  the  path,  he 
should  close  his  eyes  and  entrust  himself  to  the  guidance 
of  the  first  man  offering  to  lead  him. 

We  are  told :  "  How  can  we  believe  our  reason,  since 
we  see  that  men  who  are  guided  by  reason  err  ?  The 
men  who  are  guided  by  reason,  —  the  Protestants,  — 
break  up  into  an  endless  number  of  denominations,  and 
even  one  man,  in  entrusting  himself  to  his  reason,  passes 
from  one  teaching  to  another.  Consequently,"  we  are 
told,  "reason  may  err,  and  it  is  impossible  to  depend 
upon  it/' 


REASON,    FAITH,    AND    PRATER  471 

Why  so  ?  When  a  man  believes  in  something,  and  his 
reason  does  not  show  him  anything  more  true,  he  knows 
what  for  him  is  the  highest  truth,  and  he  is  right ;  then 
he  learns  a  still  higher  truth,  and  he  is  again  right  in 
that  he  acknowledges  it.  Even  so  he  is  right  when  he 
recognizes  a  still  higher  and  purer  truth.  That  which  is 
the  highest,  clearest,  truest  that  a  man  can  see  or  imagine 
to  himself  is  for  him  the  truth. 

Very  hkely  it  would  be  very  well  and  very  desirable  if 
all  men  recognized  one  and  the  same  perfect  truth  all  at 
once  (though,  if  this  happened,  life  would  at  once  stop) ; 
but  even  if  we  admit  that  this  would  be  desirable,  not 
everything  is  done  as  we  desire  it.  It  may,  most  likely, 
seem  desirable  to  irrational  men  that  people  should  not 
be  sick,  or  that  there  should  be  a  means  for  curing  all 
diseases,  or  that  all  people  should  speak  one  language  ;  but 
all  that  will  not  happen  because  we  imagine  that  all  men 
will  be  cured  by  our  medicine,  or  that  all  men  will  speak 
and  understand  Eussian.  If  we  imagine  this,  we  shall 
only  make  things  worse  for  ourselves,  just  as  we  make 
things  worse  for  ourselves  if  we  imagine  that  the  full  and 
eternal  truth  is  revealed  to  us  in  Scripture,  in  tradition, 
and  in  the  church.  It  was  possible  to  imagine  that  in 
the  beginning  of  Christianity,  when  one  faith  seemed  pos- 
sible ;  but  in  our  time,  when  side  by  side  we  can  see  men 
of  the  most  varied  creeds,  all  of  whom  imagine  that  the 
full  and  eternal  truth  was  revealed  to  them,  and  not  to 
us,  it  is  particularly  stupid  to  imagdne  that  we,  who  were 
born  in  our  faith,  and  no  others,  are  in  possession  of  the 
full  truth,  even  as  this  is  imagined  by  the  Buddhists, 
Mohammedans,  Catholics,  Taoists,  and  others.  Such  a 
false  imagination  is  particularly  harmful,  because  it  dis- 
unites men  more  than  anytliing  else.  Men  ought  to  unite 
more  and  more,  as  Christ  teaches  and  our  reason  and  heart 
show  to  us,  but  such  doctrines  about  revelation  more  than 
anything  else  disunite  men. 


472  REASON,    FAITH,    AND    PRAYER 

People  ought,  besides,  to  understand  that  if  a  man  be- 
lieves in  revelation,  he  does  so  only  because  reason  tells 
him  that  he  must  believe  in  such  or  such  a  revelation, — 
Mohammedan,  Buddhist,  or  Christian.  Whether  we  will 
it  or  not,  no  truth  can  enter  a  man's  soul  against  his 
reason.  Eeason  is  like  a  sifter  which  is  attached  to  the 
thresher  and  fan,  so  that  no  grain  can  be  received,  except 
through  this  sifter.  It  may  be  that  dirt  is  passing  through 
the  bolter,  but  there  is  no  other  way  for  obtaining  the 
grain.  If  we  imagine  that  we  can  have  pure  grain  with- 
out sifting,  we  shall  be  deceiving  ourselves  and  shall  feed 
on  dirt  instead  of  bread,  as  is,  indeed,  the  case  with  the 
churchmen. 

Thus  we  must  not  imagine  that  everything  is  taking 
place  as  we  want  it  to,  but  must  understand  that  every- 
thing is  done  as  established  by  God.  But  God  has  estab- 
lished human  life  in  such  a  way  that  men  cannot 
recognize  the  whole  truth,  but  constantly  approach  it,  and, 
in  proportion  as  they  understand  the  one  truth  more 
and  more  clearly,  they  approach   each   other   more   and 

more. 

You  also  ask  for  my  opinion  as  to  Christ's  personality, 
whether  I  regard  Him  as  God  ;  you  ask  me  about  His 
birth,  about  the  life  after  death,  about  whom  I  mean  by 
the  Pharisees  and  the  scribes,  and  about  communion. 

Christ  I  regard  as  a  man  like  all  of  us ;  to  regard  Him 
as  God  I  consider  the  greatest  blasphemy  and  an  obvi- 
ous proof  of  paganism.  To  recognize  Christ  as  God  is 
to  renounce  God. 

Christ  I  regard  as  a  man,  but  His  teaching  I  consider 
divine,  to  the  extent  to  which  it  expresses  divine  truths. 
I  do  not  know  a  higher  teaching.  It  has  given  me  life, 
and  I  try  to  follow  it  as  well  as  I  can. 

About  the  birth  of  Christ  I  know  nothing,  and  I  do 
not  need  to  know. 

About  the  life  after  death  we  know  that  it  exists,  that 


REASON,    FAITH.    AND    PRAYER  473 

life  does  not  end  in  death ;  but  it  is  not  given  to  us  to 
know  what  this  life  will  be,  and  we  do  not  need  to  know. 

By  the  Pharisees  I  understand  preeminently  the  clergy, 
by  the  scribes  I  understand  the  learned  who  do  not 
believe  in  God. 

In  regard  to  the  eating  of  the  body  and  the  drinking  of 
the  blood,  I  think  that  this  is  a  most  unimportant  passage 
in  the  Gospel,  and  that  it  signifies  either  the  attainment 
of  the  teaching  or  a  reminiscence,  but  in  neither  case  is 
it  of  any  importance,  and  in  no  case  does  it  mean  what 
the  church  fanatics  understand  by  it.  I  have  expounded 
my  understanding  of  this  passage  as  well  as  I  could  in  my 
Short  Exposition  of  the  Gospel. 


In  my  last  letter  I  wrote  to  you  on  the  uselessness  of 
prayer,  both  as  to  the  reahzation  of  our  wishes  in  relation 
to  the  events  of  the  external  world,  and  also  for  the 
internal  world,  —  for  our  perfection.  I  am  afraid  that 
through  my  fault  you  will  not  understand  me  as  I  should 
wish  to  be  understood,  and  so  I  will  add  a  few  words 
about  this  subject,  —  namely,  about  prayer. 

For  external  events :  for  this,  that  there  should  be  rain, 
or  that  a  man  whom  I  love  should  live,  or  that  I  should 
be  well  and  not  die,  —  for  this  I  cannot  pray,  because 
these  events  take  place  according  to  laws  established  by 
God  once  and  for  all,  and  in  such  a  way  that,  if  we  act 
as  we  should,  they  are  always  beneficent  for  us.  It  is  the 
same  as  though  a  good  man  should  build  me  a  house 
with  strong  walls  and  a  roof  which  protect  me,  and  I 
should  whimsically  wish  to  expand  or  change  the  posi- 
tion of  the  walls  and  should  ask  for  that. 

For  our  inner  perfection  we  cannot  pray,  because  every- 
thing we  need  for  our  perfection  has  been  given  to  us, 
and  we  neither  need  nor  can  add  anything  to  it. 


474  REASON,    FAITH,    AND    PRAYER 

But  the  fact  that  supphcatory  prayer  has  no  meaning 
does  not  mean  that  it  is  impossible  and  unnecessary  to 
pray.  On  the  contrary,  I  think  that  it  is  impossible 
to  live  well  without  prayer,  and  that  prayer  is  a  neces- 
sary condition  of  a  good,  calm,  and  happy  life.  In  the 
Gospel  we  are  shown  how  to  pray  and  what  a  prayer 
should  consist  in. 

In  every  man  there  is  a  spark  of  God,  God's  spirit, — 
every  man  is  God's  son.  Prayer  consists  in  this,  that, 
having  renounced  everything  worldly,  everything  which 
may  distract  my  sentiments  (the  Mohammedans  do  well, 
when,  upon  entering  a  mosque  or  beginning  to  pray,  they 
close  their  eyes  and  ears  with  their  fingers),  I  evoke  in 
myself  the  divine  principle.  The  best  way  for  doing  this 
is  to  do  what  Christ  teaches :  to  enter  into  the  closet  and 
to  shut  the  door,  that  is,  to  pray  in  complete  solitude,  be 
it  in  the  closet,  in  tlie  forest,  or  in  the  field.  A  prayer 
consists  in  this,  that,  renouncing  everything  worldly, 
everything  external,  we  evoke  in  ourselves  the  divine  part 
of  our  soul,  to  transfer  ourselves  into  it,  by  means  of  it  to 
enter  into  communion  with  Him  of  whom  it  is  a  part, 
to  recognize  ourselves  as  God's  slaves,  and  to  scrutinize 
our  soul,  our  acts,  our  desires  according  to  the  demands, 
not  of  the  external  conditions  of  the  world,  but  of  this 
divine  part  of  the  soul. 

And  such  a  prayer  is  not  an  idle  emotion  and  excita- 
tion, such  as  are  produced  by  congregational  prayers  with 
their  singing,  pictures,  illumination,  and  sermons,  but 
always  helps  life,  by  changing  and  directing  it.  Such 
a  prayer  is  a  confession,  a  verification  of  former  acts,  and 
an  indication  of  the  direction  of  future  acts.  Suppose  I 
am  insulted,  and  I  foster  ill-will  toward  a  man  and  wish 
him  evil,  or  do  not  wish  to  do  him  the  good  which  I  can 
do  him  ;  or  I  have  lost  property  or  a  dear  friend ;  or  I  live, 
acting  contrary  to  my  belief.  If  I  do  not  pray  as  is 
proper,  but  continue  to  live  among  distractions,  I  am  not 


REASON,    FAITH,    AND    PRAYER  475 

freed  from  that  painful  feeling  of  ill-will  for  the  man  who 
has  offended  me ;  even  so  the  loss  of  property  or  of  a  dear 
friend  will  poison  my  life ;  and,  in  getting  ready  to  act 
contrary  to  the  dictates  of  my  conscience,  I  shall  be  agi- 
tated. But  if  I  verify  myself  with  the  aid  of  myself  and 
of  God,  everything  will  be  changed,  —  I  will  accuse  my- 
self and  not  my  enemy,  and  will  seek  for  an  opportunity 
to  do  him  good ;  my  losses  I  wdll  accept  as  a  trial,  and 
I  will  endeavour  with  humility  to  bear  them,  and  in  this 
will  I  find  my  consolation ;  and  I  shall  be  able  to  under- 
stand my  acts ;  I  will  not,  as  before,  conceal  from  myself 
that  disagreement  between  my  life  and  my  faith,  but  wiU, 
repenting,  try  to  bring  them  to  an  agreement,  and  in  this 
endeavour  I  shall  find  peace  and  joy. 

But  you  will  ask :  "  In  what  should  a  prayer  con- 
sist ? " 

Christ  gave  us  a  sample  of  a  prayer  in  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  and  this  prayer,  which  reminds  us  of  the  essence 
of  our  life,  v/hich  is,  to  be  in  the  will  of  the  Father  and 
to  fulfil  it,  and  of  our  usual  sins,  —  the  condemnation  of 
our  brothers  and  our  unforgivingness  toward  them,  —  and 
of  the  chief  perils  of  our  life,  the  temptations,  remains 
until  now  the  best  and  most  complete  of  all  the  prayers 
which  I  know. 

But,  in  addition  to  this  prayer,  a  true,  solitary  prayer 
consists  also  of  everything  which  in  the  words  of  other 
sages  and  saintly  men,  or  in  our  own,  takes  our  soul  back 
to  the  recognition  of  our  divine  principle,  to  a  more  vivid 
and  clear  expression  of  the  demands  of  our  conscience, 
that  is,  to  the  divine  nature. 

A  prayer  is  a  scrutiny  of  our  past  and  present  acts 
according  to  the  highest  demands. 

Thus  I  not  only  do  not  deny  solitaiy  prayer,  which 
reestablishes  the  divinity  of  our  soul,  but  even  consider 
it  a  necessary  condition  of  the  spiritual,  that  is,  of  the 
true,  life.     What  I  deny  is  the  supplicatory  and  congre- 


476  REASON,    FAITH,    AND   PRAYER 

gational  —  the  blasphemous  —  prayer,  with   its   singing, 
images,  tapers,  and  even  performances. 

1  often  wonder  how  tliis  congregational  and  supplica- 
tory prayer  can  exist  among  men  who  call  themselves 
Christian,  when  Christ  said  distinctly  and  definitely  that 
we  should  pray  in  solitude  and  that  we  must  not  ask  for 
anything,  because  "before  ye  open  your  mouth,  your 
Father  knoweth  what  things  ye  have  need  of." 

I  will  tell  you  about  myself,  —  not  at  all  thinking  that 
this  is  good  for  all  men  and  that  all  men  should  do  so,  — 
that  I  have  long  ago  accustomed  myself  to  praying  every 
day  in  the  morning  in  solitude.  And  my  daily  prayer  is 
as  follows : 

"  Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven,  Hallowed  be  Thy 
name."  And  after  that  I  add  from  the  Epistle  of  John : 
"  Thy  name  is  love.  God  is  love.  He  that  dwelleth  in 
love  dwelleth  in  God,  and  God  in  him.  No  man  hath 
seen  God  at  any  time,  but  if  we  love  one  another,  He 
dwelleth  in  us,  and  His  love  is  perfected  in  us.  If  a 
man  say,  I  love  God,  and  hateth  his  brother,  he  is  a  liar, 
for  he  that  loveth  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath  seen, 
how  can  he  love  God  whom  he  hath  not  seen  ?  Beloved, 
let  us  love  one  another :  for  love  is  of  God ;  and  every 
one  that  loveth  is  born  of  God,  and  knoweth  God ;  for 
God  is  love." 

"  Thy  kingdom  come."  And  I  add :  "  Seek  ye  the 
kingdom  of  God  and  His  righteousness,  and  all  these 
things  shall  be  added  unto  you.  The  kingdom  of  God  is 
within  you." 

"  Thy  will  be  done  in  earth,  as  it  is  in  heaven."  And 
with  this  I  ask  myself  whether  I  truly  believe  that  I  am 
in  God  and  God  in  me,  and  whether  I  beheve  that  my 
life  consists  in  increasing  love  in  myself.  I  ask  myself 
whether  I  am  mindful  of  this,  that  to-day  I  live  and  to- 
morrow I  am  dead,  and  whether  it  is  true  that  I  do  not 
want  to  live  for  my  personal  desire  and  human  glory,  but 


REASON,    FAITH,    AND    PRAYER  477 

only  in  order  to  do  God's  will.  And  T  add  Christ's  words 
from  the  three  gospels :  "  Not  my  will,  but  Thine  be 
done ;  and  not  what  I  will,  but  what  Thou  wilt,  and  not 
as  I  ^vill,  but  as  Thou  wilt." 

"  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread."  I  add :  "  My 
meat  is  to  do  the  will  of  Him  that  sent  me,  and  to  finish 
His  work.  Deny  thyself,  and  take  up  thy  cross  daily, 
and  follow  me.  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn  of 
me ;  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart :  and  ye  shall 
find  rest  unto  your  souls ;  for  my  yoke  is  easy,  and  my 
burden  is  hght." 

"  And  forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our  debtors." 
I  add :  "  If  ye  forgive  not  men  their  trespasses,  neither 
will  your  Father  forgive  your  trespasses." 

"  And  lead  us  not  into  temptation."  I  add  :  "  Beware 
of  temptations,  —  lust,  ambition,  ill-will,  gluttony,  forni- 
cation, human  glory.  Do  not  do  thine  alms  in  the  presence 
of  men,  and  let  not  thy  left  hand  know  what  thy  right 
hand  doeth.  No  man,  having  put  his  hand  to  the 
plough,  and  looking  back,  is  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  God. 
Eejoice  because  they  insult  and  shame  you." 

"  But  deliver  us  from  evil."  I  add :  "  Beware  of  evil 
which  Cometh  from  the  heart:  evil  thoughts,  murder 
(every  ill-will  toward  man),  theft  (the  use  of  what  you 
have  not  earned),  fornication,  adultery  (even  in  thought), 
false  witness,  blasphemy." 

I  conclude  the  prayer  again  with  words  from  the  Epis- 
tle of  John :  "  We  know  that  we  have  passed  from  death 
unto  life,  because  we  love  the  brethren.  He  that  loveth 
not  his  brother  abideth  in  death." 

Thus  I  pray  every  day,  applying  the  words  of  this 
prayer  to  my  acts  and  to  my  mental  state,  —  at  times 
with  more  soulfulness  than  at  others. 

Besides  this  prayer,  I  pray  also  when  I  am  alone, — 
I  read  the  thoughts  of  wise  and  holy  men,  not  Christians 
and  the  ancients  alone,  and  I  think  and  search  before 


478  REASON,    FAITH,    AND    PRATER 

God  for  that  evil  which  is  in  my  heart,  and  try  to  pluck 

it  out. 

I  also  try  to  pray  in  life,  when  I  am  with  people,  and 
I  am  seized  with  passions.  I  then  try  to  remember  what 
took  place  in  my  soul  during  my  solitary  prayer,  and  the 
more  sincere  my  prayer  was,  the  easier  I  withstand  the 
evil. 

That  is  all  I  wanted  to  tell  you  about  prayer,  so  that 
you  may  not  think  that  I  deny  it. 

Moscow,  January  8,  1901. 


TO   THE   TSAE   AND   HIS   ASSOCIATES 

Again  murders,  again  street  rioting,  again  there  will 
be  executions,  again  terror,  false  accusations,  threats,  and 
rage  on  one  side,  and  again  hatred,  a  desire  for  revenge, 
and  a  readiness  for  sacrifice  on  the  other.  Again  all 
the  Russians  have  divided  into  two  hostile  camps  and 
commit  and  are  getting  ready  to  commit  the  greatest 
crimes. 

It  is  very  likely  that  the  present  agitation  will  be  sup- 
pressed, though  it  is  also  possible  that  these  soldiers, 
policemen,  and  officers  of  the  army,  upon  whom  the  gov- 
ernment relies  so  much,  will  comprehend  that  what  they 
are  compelled  to  do  is  the  great  crime  of  fratricide,  and  will 
refuse  to  obey.  i3ut  even  if  the  present  agitation  shall  be 
suppressed,  it  cannot  be  put  out,  but  will  be  fanned  more 
and  more  in  a  secret  form,  and  will  inevitably  sooner  or 
later  manifest  itself  with  increased  force  and  will  produce 
still  worse  sufferings  and  crimes. 

What  is  it  for  ?  What  is  it  for,  since  it  is  so  easy  to 
be  freed  from  it  ? 

We  turn  to  all  of  you  who  have  power,  from  the  Tsar, 
the  members  of  the  Imperial  Council,  the  ministers,  to  the 
relatives,  —  the  uncles,  brothers,  friends  of  the  Tsar,  — 
who  are  likely  to  have  an  influence  upon  him  ;  we  do 
not  turn  to  you  as  to  enemies,  but  as  to  brothers,  who 
—  whether  you  wish  it  or  not  —  are  inseparably  con- 
nected with  us  in  such  a  way  that  all  the  sufferings 
which  we  undergo  reecho  in  you,  the  more  painfully  if 
you  feel  that  you  might  have  removed  these  sufferings 
and  did  not  do  so,  —  see  to  it  that  an  end  is  put  to  this 

situation ! 

479 


480  TO    THE   TSAR   AND    HIS    ASSOCIATES 

To  you,  or  to  the  majority  of  you,  it  seems  that  all 
that  is  taking  place  because  amidst  the  regular  current 
of  hfe  there  appear  restless,  dissatisfied  people,  who  stir 
up  the  masses  and  interfere  with  this  regular  current, 
that  it  is  only  these  people  who  are  to  blame  for  every- 
thing, that  it  is  necessary  to  quiet  and  bridle  these  rest- 
less, dissatisfied  people,  and  then  everything  will  be  well, 
and  that  nothing  need  be  changed. 

But  if  the  whole  matter  were  due  to  the  restless  and 
bad  people,  all  that  would  be  necessary  to  do  would  be 
to  catch  them  and  shut  them  up  in  prisons,  or  to  execute 
them,  and  then  all  the  agitation  would  come  to  an  end. 
But  these  people  have  for  more  than  thirty  years  been 
caught,  imprisoned,  executed,  deported  by  the  thousand, 
and  their  number  keeps  increasing,  and  the  dissatisfaction 
with  the  existing  order  of  Hfe  not  only  keeps  growing, 
but  is  spreading  all  the  time  and  has  taken  hold  of 
milhons  of  the  labouring  people,  a  vast  majority  of  the 
whole  nation.  It  is  evident  that  the  dissatisfaction  is  not 
due  to  the  restless  and  bad  people,  but  to  something  else. 
And  you,  governing  men,  need  but  for  a  minute  take 
your  attention  away  from  the  sharp  struggle  with  which 
you  have  been  busy,  —  stop  thinking  naively,  as  was 
expressed  in  the  late  circular  of  the  minister  of  internal 
affairs,  that  "the  police  need  only  in  time  disperse  the 
crowd,  and  shoot  into  it  if  it  does  not  disperse,  in  order 
that  all  be  calm  and  quiet,"  —  you  need  only  stop  believ- 
ing this,  to  be  able  to  see  clearly  the  cause  which  pro- 
duces the  dissatisfaction  among  the  masses  and  finds  its 
expression  in  agitations,  which  are  constantly  assuming 
wider  and  deeper  dimensions. 

The  cause  is  this,  that,  in  consequence  of  the  unfor- 
tunate, accidental  murder  of  the  Tsar  who  freed  the 
masses,  committed  by  a  small  group  of  men,  who  falsely 
imagined  that  they  served  the  nation  in  this  way,  the 
government  decided  to  keep  from  going  ahead  by  renouuc- 


TO    THE    TSAR    AND    HIS    ASSOCIATES         481 

ing  more  and  more  the  improper  conditions  of  life  under 
the  despotic  forms  of  government,  and,  imagining  that 
salvation  lay  in  those  same  coarse,  obsolete  forms,  has 
not  only  not  advanced  in  the  last  twenty  years,  in  con- 
formity with  the  general  development  and  greater  com- 
plexity of  life,  or  been  standing  still,  but  has  been  going 
back,  with  this  retrogressive  motion  more  and  more  de- 
parting from  the  people  and  their  demands. 

Thus  it  is  not  the  bad,  restless  people  who  are  to  blame, 
but  you  yourselves,  the  rulers,  who  do  not  wish  to  see 
anything  but  your  own  peace  for  the  present  moment. 
It  is  not  a  question  of  defending  yourselves  at  once 
against  an  enemy  who  wishes  you  evil,  —  no  one  wishes 
you  any  evil,  —  but,  having  come  to  see  the  cause  of  the 
dissatisfaction  of  society,  of  removing  it.  All  people  can- 
not be  washing  for  discord  and  hostility ;  they  always 
prefer  to  live  in  concord  and  love  with  their  brothers. 
But  if  they  now  are  agitated  and  seem  to  be  wishing  you 
ill,  this  is  so  because  you  appear  to  them  as  that  barrier 
which  deprives  not  only  them,  but  also  the  millions  of 
their  brothers,  of  the  best  possessions  of  man,  —  liberty 
and  enhghtenment. 

For  people  to  stop  being  agitated  and  attacking  you, 
so  little  is  needed,  and  this  little  is  so  needed  for  your- 
selves, so  obviously  will  give  you  peace,  that  it  would  be 
remarkable  if  you  did  not  do  it. 

Only  very  little  is  to  be  done.  What  you  ought  to  do 
is  this : 

In  the  first  place,  make  the  peasants  in  all  their  rights 
equal  with  all  the  other  citizens,  and  so : 

(a)  Abolish  the  disconnected,  stupid  institution  of 
County  Council  chiefs. 

(b)  Abolish  those  special  rules  which  are  established 
for  the  determination  of  the  relations  of  the  labourers 
to  the  employers. 

(c)  Free  the  peasants  from  the  oppression  of  the  pass- 


482  TO    THE    TSAR   AND    niS    ASSOCIATES 

ports  in  going  from  place  to  place,  and  also  from  the 
quartering,  transportation,  and  village  police  duties  (ten- 
men,  hundred-men)  which  lie  exclusively  upon  the 
peasants. 

(d)  Free  them  from  the  unjust  ohligation  of  paying 
other  people's  debts  in  consequence  of  mutual  bail,  and 
also  from  the  emancipation  payments,  which  have  long 
ago  covered  the  value  of  the  land  purchased. 

And  (c)  above  all  else,  abolish  the  useless,  unnecessary, 
disgraceful  corporal  punishment,  which  has  been  estab- 
lished only  for  the  most  industrious,  moral,  and  numerous 
class  of  people. 

The  equalization  of  the  peasantry,  which  forms  the 
vast  majority  of  the  people,  in  all  its  rights  with  the  other 
classes  is  particularly  important,  because  there  can  be  no 
permanency  and  firmness  in  a  social  structure  in  which 
this  majority  does  not  enjoy  equal  rights  with  others,  but 
exists  in  the  form  of  slavas,  who  are  weighed  down  with 
special,  exclusive  laws.  Only  with  an  equalization  of  the 
rights  of  the  labouring  majority  with  those  of  all  the 
other  citizens,  and  in  its  emancipation  from  disgraceful 
exceptions,  can  there  be  a  firm  structure  of  society. 

In  the  second  place,  you  must  stop  applying  the  so- 
called  rules  of  increased  protection,  which  does  away  with 
all  the  existing  laws  and  turns  the  population  over  into 
the  power  of  very  frequently  immoral,  stupid,  and  cruel 
chiefs.  The  non-application  of  the  increased  protection 
is  important,  because  this  arrest  of  the  actions  of  the 
general  laws  produces  denunciations,  and  espionage,  and 
encourages  and  provokes  rude  force,  which  is  frequently 
employed  against  the  labourers  who  are  entering  into 
conflicts  with  their  masters  and  the  landowners  (nowhere 
are  such  tortures  practised  as  where  these  rules  are  opera- 
tive) ;  but  chiefly,  because  only  thanks  to  this  terrible 
measure  have  they  begun  more  and  more  frequently  to 
employ  capital  punishment,  which   more   than  anything 


TO    THE    TSAR   AND    HIS    ASSOCIATES         483 

else  corrupts  people,  which  is  contrary  to  the  Christian 
spirit  of  the  Kussian  people,  which  heretofore  was  not 
recognized  in  our  law,  and  which  forms  the  greatest 
crime,  forbidden  alike  by  God  and  by  man's  conscience. 

In  the  third  place,  you  must  destroy  all  the  barriers  in 
culture,  education,  and  instruction.     You  must  — 

(a)  Make  no  distinction  between  the  persons  of  the 
different  classes  in  admitting  them  to  be  educated,  and 
so  you  must  abolish  all  the  prohibitions  of  reading,  in- 
struction, and  books,  which  exist  exclusively  for  the 
masses,  as  though  all  these  things  were  injurious  for  them. 

(b)  Admit  to  all  the  schools  the  persons  belonging  to 
all  the  nationalities  and  religions,  not  excepting  the  Jews, 
who  for  some  reason  are  deprived  of  this  right. 

(c)  Not  interfere  with  the  teachers  when  they  carry  on 
the  instruction  in  those  languages  spoken  by  the  children 
who  attend  school. 

Above  all  else,  (d)  permit  the  foundation  and  conduct 
of  all  kinds  of  private  schools,  both  lower  and  higher,  by 
all  persons  who  are  desirous  of  devoting  themselves  to  a 
pedagogical  activity. 

The  emancipation  of  culture,  education,  and  instruction 
from  all  the  oppressions  under  which  they  suffer  now  is 
important,  because  it  is  only  these  restrictions  which  keep 
the  labouring  masses  from  freeing  themselves  from  that 
ignorance  which  now  serves  the  government  as  the  main 
argument  for  the  application  of  these  restrictions  to  the 
masses.  The  emancipation  of  the  labouring  classes  from 
governmental  interference  in  matters  of  education  would 
give  the  masses  a  chance  much  more  rapidly  and  usefully 
to  acquire  all  that  knowledge  which  they  need,  and  not 
that  which  is  obtruded  upon  them ;  and  the  permission 
granted  to  private  individuals  to  open  and  conduct 
schools  would  do  away  with  the  constant  agitations 
among  the  student  body,  who  are  dissatisfied  with  the 
management  of  the  institutions  in  which  they  study  now. 


484  TO    THE    TSAR   AND    HIS    ASSOCIATES 

If  there  were  no  restriction  in  the  foundation  of  free 
private  schools,  the  young  people  who  are  dissatisfied 
with  the  orders  in  the  governmental  institutions  of  learn- 
ing would  go  over  to  those  private  institutions  which 
would  answer  their  demands. 

Finally,  in  the  fourth  place,  and  this  is  most  important, 
you  must  abolish  all  the  restrictions  of  religious  freedom. 
You  must : 

(a)  Abolish  all  the  laws  by  which  every  departure  from 
the  recognized  state  church  is  punished  as  a  crime. 

(&)  Permit  the  opening  and  building  of  chapels,  churches, 
and  meeting-houses  by  the  Old-ritualists,  Baptists,  Milkers, 
Stundists,  and  so  forth. 

(c)  Permit  religious  gatherings  and  religious  preaching 
to  all  the  faiths. 

(d)  Not  keep  the  people  of  the  different  faiths  from 
bringing  up  their  children  in  the  confession  which  they 
regard  as  the  true  one. 

It  is  necessary  to  do  so,  because,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
truth,  worked  out  by  history  and  science  and  acknowl- 
edged by  the  whole  world,  that  religious  persecutions  not 
only  do  not  obtain  their  aim,  but  even  produce  a  reverse 
action,  by  strengthening  that  which  they  intend  to  destroy, 
and  to  say  nothing  of  this,  that  the  interference  of  the 
temporal  power  in  matters  of  rehgion  produces  the  most 
harmful,  and,  therefore,  the  worst  vice  of  hypocrisy,  which 
Christ  arraigned  so  vigorously,  —  the  interference  of  the 
temporal  power  in  matters  of  faith  hampers  both  the  in- 
dividual person  and  the  aggregate  of  men  in  their  attain- 
ment of  the  highest  good,  —  the  union  of  men  among 
themselves.  But  the  union  is  not  attained  by  a  violent 
and  impossible  retention  of  men  in  the  once  acquired 
external  confession  of  the  one  religious  doctrine  to  which 
infallibility  is  ascribed,  but  only  by  the  free  motion  of  all 
humanity  in  its  approximation  to  the  one  truth,  which, 
therefore,  is  the  only  one  that  can  unite  men. 


TO    THE    TSAR   AND    HIS    ASSOCIATES         485 

Such,  we  believe,  are  the  most  modest  and  practicable 
desires  of  the  vast  majority  of  the  Eussian  society^  The 
application  of  these  measures  will  unquestionably  pacify 
society,  and  will  free  it  from  those  terrible  sufferings  and 
(what  is  worse  than  sufferings)  crimes,  which  will  inevi- 
tably be  committed  on  both  sides,  if  the  government  will 
care  only  for  the  suppression  of  agitations,  leaving  their 
causes  untouched. 

We  turn  to  all  of  you,  —  the  Tsar,  the  ministers,  the 
members  of  the  Imperial  Council,  and  the  Tsar's  nearest 
friends  and  advisers,  in  general  to  all  people  in  power,  — 
for  help  in  the  pacification  of  society  and  in  its  liberation 
from  sufferings  and  crimes.  We  turn  to  you,  not  as  to 
people  of  another  camp,  but  as  to  our  involuntary  fellows 
in  thought  and  feeling,  and  our  brothers. 

In  a  society  of  men  who  are  bound  together  some  can- 
not fare  well,  while  others  fare  badly,  especially  if  the 
majority  fares  badly.  Now  all  can  fare  well  only  when 
the  strongest,  most  industrious  majority,  upon  which 
society  holds  itself,  fares  well. 

Help,  then,  improve  the  condition  of  this  majority, 
especially  in  what  is  most  important,  in  its  freedom  and 
its  enlightenment.  Only  then  will  your  situation,  too,  be 
tranquil  and  truly  good. 

This  was  written  by  Lev  Tolstoy,  who,  writing  this, 
tried  to  expound,  not  merely  his  own  opinion,  but  the 
opinion  of  many  most  excellent,  unselfish,  sensible,  and 
kind  people,  who  wish  for  the  same. 

March  15,  1901. 


THKEE   LETTERS   CONCERNING   SHOPOV 


" 


LETTER    TO    THE    "FREE    THOUGHT,      A    WEEKLY   PUBLISHED 

IN    SOFIA,    BULGARIA 

Dear  Sir:  —  I  thank  you  for  the  information  about 
Shopov.  Although  I  was  not  quite  able  -to  understand  his 
speech  for  the  defence,  I  saw  that  he  is  a  man  who 
has  profound  convictions  concerning  the  Christian  truth. 

He  is  very  young,  and  so  I  feel  terribly  for  his  sake. 
God  aid  him  to  be,  not  the  soil  from  which  the  seed 
sprouts  rapidly,  without  being  able  to  take  firm  root,  but 
such  as  will  produce  fruit  a  hundredfold. 

The  longer  I  live  and  think,  approaching  death,  the 
more  I  am  convinced  that  the  army,  that  is,  the  men 
who  are  prepared  to  commit  murder,  is  the  cause,  not 
only  of  all  the  calamities,  but  also  of  all  the  corruption  of 
manners  in  the  world,  and  that  salvation  lies  only  in 
what  is  being  done  by  dear,  beloved  Shopov  '(may  God 
strengthen  him). 

The  longer  I  live,  the  more  I  marvel  at  the  blindness 
of  our  learned  world  (at  times  I  think  that  this  blind- 
ness is  intentional),  which  otfers  every  imaginable  means 
for  the  salvation  of  men  from  their  wretchedness,  except 
the  one  which  will  certainly  save  them  from  wretchedness 
and  from  the  terrible  sin  of  murder,  by  which  the  existing 
order  holds  itself  and  which  we  make  use  of.  The  only 
ones  who  are  not  blind  are  the  governments,  which  hold 
to  the  murders  and  so  are  afraid  of  Shopovs  more  than  of 
the  armies  of  their  neighbours.    You  no  doubt  know  Rus- 

486 


THREE   LETTERS    CONCERNING   SHOPOV       487 

sian,  and  so  you  will  forgive  me  for  not  answering  you  in 
the  language  in  which  you  write.  If  you  have  any  com- 
munication with  dear  Shopov,  give  him,  if  you  please,  my 
love,  gratefulness,  and  respect,  and  this  one  piece  of  advice  : 
let  him  not  insist  on  his  refusal,  if  he  is  doing  it  for  the 
sake  of  men,  and  not  for  God,  and  let  him  be  guided  only 
by  his  relation  to  God. 

I  shall  be  very  thankful  to  you,  if  you  will  keep  me 
informed  as  to  his  future  fate. 

With  the  greatest  respect,  ever  ready  to  serve  you. 

May  29,  1901. 

LETTER   TO   G.   SHOPOV 

Dear  Friend  Georgi:  —  Your  letter  I  received  long 
ago,  and  I  was  very  happy  to  receive  it,  and  thank  you 
very  much  for  it,  but  did  not  answer  it  on  account  of  ill 
health  and  a  mass  of  work.  Please  continue  to  inform 
me  concerning  your  situation.  How  do  you  bear  your 
confinement?  Is  it  severe?  Do  they  admit  visitors  to 
you,  and  let  you  have  books  ?  Also  let  me  know  about 
your  family  relations :  have  you  any  parents  ?  Who 
are  your  relatives,  and  how  do  they  look  upon  your  act  ? 
Can  I  not  in  some  way  be  useful  to  you  ?  If  it  is  pos- 
sible for  you,  translate  your  letters  for  me  into  Russian, 
and  if  not,  write  as  legibly  as  possible,  so  that  every  letter 
may  be  made  out ;  I  shall  then  be  able  to  make  out  the 
sense.  Maybe  it  is  hard  for  you  to  read  my  letters.  But 
I  assume  that  you  understand  Russian  better  than  we 
understand  Bulgarian.  Their  having  tried  you,  not  for 
the  refusal  to  do  military  service,  but  for  non-fulfilment 
of  mihtary  orders,  —  that  is  what  they  always  do.  They 
cannot  do  anything  else,  and  I  truly  pity  them.  And 
you,  who  are  in  their  power  and  are  deprived  by  them 
of  liberty,  must  none  the  less  pity  them.  They  feel  that 
tmth  and  God  are  against  them,  and  they  cling  to  every- 


488   THREE  LETTERS  CONCERNING  SHOPOV 

tluDg  to  save  themselves;  but  their  days  are  counted. 
And  the  terrible  revolution  which  you  produce,  without 
storming  a  Bastile,  but  by  sitting  in  prison,  destroys  and 
will  destroy  all  the  present  godless  structure  of  life,  and 
will  give  a  chance  for  the  new  one  to  be  founded.  I  have 
used  all  my  powers  in  serving  God  in  this,  and  if  it  can 
be  transmitted  to  you,  I  should  like  to  send  you  what  I 
have  written  about  it. 

I  send  you  my  brotherly  love. 

August  10, 1901. 


LETTER    TO    THE    EDITOR    OF   "FREE    THOUGHT,     OF    SOFIA, 

BULGARIA 

Dear  Sir  :  —  From  your  letter  I  see  that  the  Bulgarian 
government  is  not  only  coarse  and  cruel,  but  also  astound- 
ingly  stupid  (I  say,  the  government,  because  I  am  con- 
vinced that  the  lower  authorities  would  not  treat  this 
youth,  who  in  any  case  ought  to  inspire  sympathy  and 
respect,  with  such  barbarism  and  cruelty,  if  that  did  not 
correspond  to  the  demands  and  wishes  of  the  higher 
authorities).  It  is  natural  for  the  governments  of  the 
great  states,  like  France  and  Germany,  and  for  the  most 
abominable  government  of  my  own  country,  to  treat  cru- 
elly such  men  as  Shopov,  who  by  their  lives  and  acts 
indicate  the  path  of  moral  progress  on  which  humanity 
is  walking.  They,  that  is,  the  governments,  can  do  noth- 
ing else,  because  they  are  based  on  rude  force,  while  moral 
progress  consists  in  substituting  for  rude  force  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  brotherhood  of  men,  and  so  the  govern- 
ments are  compelled  to  suppress  every  manifestation  of 
true  progress,  which  they  actually  do  from  a  sense  of  self- 
preservation.  But  the  small  nationalities  and  states,  like 
Bulgaria,  Servia,  Switzerland,  and  others,  can  obviously 
not  attain  anything  through  rude  force.  In  the  struggle 
with  force  they  will  always  be  crushed  by  the  immeasur- 


THREE    LETTERS    CONCERXING    SHOPOV       489 

ably  more  powerful  states,  Austria,  Germany,  England, 
Eussia. 

The  role  of  the  small  nationalities  does  not  consist  in 
aping  and  imitating  the  larger  states,  in  surrendering 
themselves  to  militarism  and  to  all  the  terrors  and  cruel- 
ties which  are  connected  w'ith  it  (as  may  be  seen  in  the 
small  example  of  Shopov's  case),  but,  being  free  from 
the  burden  and  rudeness  of  militarism,  in  going  ahead, 
to  the  best  of  their  abilities,  on  the  path  of  moral  progi-ess, 
pointing  out  the  path  to  the  larger  nations. 

Thus  Germany  did,  though  not  so  much  in  the  sense 
of  moral,  as  of  aesthetic  and  scientific  progress,  when  it 
was  divided  up  into  small  duchies  and  had  not  yet  par- 
taken of  the  poison  of  rude  force,  which  is  killing  it  spir- 
itually. Thus  acts  little  Switzerland,  showing  people  an 
example  and  showing  them  the  possibility  of  a  union  of 
liberty  and  social  order. 

How  nice  it  would  be,  if  your  Bulgarian  people  would 
come  in  time  to  their  senses,  and,  instead  of  introducing 
discipline  and  torturing  men,  only  that  they  may  not  fall 
behind  their  erring  neighbours,  who  imitate  the  larger 
nations,  and  to  be  able  to  fight  with  them,  —  how  nice 
it  would  be  if  your  good,  industrious,  sensible  people 
should  use  all  their  forces  in  the  establishment  of  liberty 
and  equality  for  themselves,  thus  showing  an  example  to 
the  other  nations,  instead  of  trying  to  do  what  they  cannot 
do,  —  frightening  their  neighbours  with  their  disciplined 
army.     How  nice  that  would  be ! 

But  acts  such  as  the  torture  of  Shopov  only  cast  dis- 
grace on  the  government  which  commits  them,  and  give 
us  a  bad  opinion  of  the  society  which  silently  endures 
such  dishonourable  acts.  Shopov  is  intentionally  tortured 
as  a  soldier,  although  he  from  the  start  refused  to  be 
enlisted  in  the  army,  —  not  through  caprice  or  a  lack  of 
a  desire  to  be  useful  to  people,  but  because  military  serv- 
ice, which  has  murder  for  its  aim,  is  not  in  agreement 


490   THREE  LETTERS  CONCERNING  SHOPOV 

with  that  Christianity  which  the  nation  and  the  govern- 
ment of  Bulgaria  profess ;  and  so  the  trial  of  Shopov,  as 
having  violated  discipline  as  a  soldier,  is  a  lie  and  a 
deceit,  which  is  practised  by  the  government  and  its 
slaves  on  a  defenceless,  honest  man.  Even  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  government,  which  may  fear  that,  if 
Shopov's  refusal  is  left  unpunished,  no  one  will  be  will- 
ing to  serve,  all  the  government  could  do,  not  only  to 
observe  justice,  but  also  from  a  feeling  of  self-preserva- 
tion, is  to  make  him  do  some  public  work,  which  is  not 
in  disagreement  with  his  belief. 

With  the  fullest  respect,  your  obedient  servant. 
Koreiz,  Tauris  Government,  October  17,  1901. 


THE  TOLSTOY  SOCIETY  OF   MANCHESTER, 

ENGLAND i 

Deak  Friend  :  —  You  are  right  in  assuming  that  1 
must  be  interested  in  the  "  Tolstoy  Society."  But  I  am 
sorry  that  there  is  left  in  me  enough  vanity  to  be  inter- 
ested in  it.  I  have  always  been  of  the  opinion  —  and 
it  cannot  change  —  that  to  be  a  member  of  the  ancient 
society,  established  by  God  at  the  beginning  of  the  con- 
scious life  of  humanity,  is  more  productive  for  the  individ- 
ual and  for  humanity,  than  being  a  member  of  limited 
societies,  which  are  organized  by  us  for  the  attainment  of 
those  ends  which  we  are  able  to  cognize.  I  think  that 
the  preference  which  we  show  for  our  own  societies  is  due 
to  this,  that  the  part  which  we  play  in  them  appears  to 
us  much  more  important  than  the  one  which  we  fulfil 
in  the  great  society  of  God.  But  that  is  only  self-decep- 
tion: all  three  kinds  of  activity,  mentioned  by  you  in 
your  letter,  are  more  certainly  attained  by  a  man  who 
considers  himself  to  be  a  member  of  the  great  society 
of  God,  than  by  one  who  is  a  member  of  the  "  Tolstoy 
Society."  Such  a  man,  if  he  is  sincere,  —  as  I  know  that 
you  are,  —  will,  in  the  first  place,  disseminate,  as  well 
as  he  can,  those  ideas  which  have  given  him  spiritual 
satisfaction  and  energy  of  life,  without  troubling  himself 
whether  they  are  Tolstoy's  or  anybody's  else.  In  the 
second  place,  he  will  try  with  all  his  might  to  urge  peo- 
ple to  express  their  opinions  concerning  the  most  impor- 
tant questions  of  life.     In  the  third  place,  he  will  strive 

'  Translated  from  the  Russiau  translation  of  the  English  original. 

491 


492  THE    TOLSTOY    SOCIETY 

to  afford  to  every  one  with  whom  he  comes  into  contact 
as  much  joy  and  happiness  as  he  can ;  and  he  will  also 
help  those  who  fall  into  difficulties  from  a  thorough  fol- 
lowing of  Christ's  teaching.  A  man  who  belongs  to  the 
great  society  of  God  will,  besides,  do  many  other  Chris- 
tian acts,  which  are  neither  foreseen  nor  determined  by 
the  "Tolstoy  Society,"  nor  by  any  other.  I  suppose 
there  are  some  advantages  in  the  union  of  men  of  similar 
thoughts  into  societies;  but  I  think  that  the  disadvan- 
tages are  much  more  considerable  than  the  advantages. 
And  so  I  confess  that  for  me  it  would  be  a  great  loss  to 
change  my  membership  in  the  great  society  of  God  for 
the  apparently  useful  participation  in  any  human  society 
whatever. 

I  am  sorry,  dear  friend,  to  differ  from  you,  but  I  cannot 
.  think  otherwise. 

August  15  y  1901. 


LETTER   TO   AN    ORTHODOX   PRIEST 

Dear  Brother  :  —  I  am  sorry  I  do  not  know  youi 
patronymic.  Your  letter  has  given  me  much  pleasure. 
You  are  the  fourth  priest  in  whom  I  find  a  full  agree- 
ment, not  with  my  views,  but  with  the  essence  of  Christ's 
teaching,  which  in  its  true  significance  is  accessible  to 
babes  and  cannot  call  forth  any  disagreement.  And  this 
gives  me  pleasure. 

There  is  one  thing  in  your  letter  which  disturbs  me. 
That  is  your  mention  of  metaphysics  and  ecclesiasticism. 
I  am  afraid  that  you  have  formed  yoiTr  own  metaphysics, 
or  that  you  stick  to  the  ecclesiastic  metaphysics,  which 
makes  it  possible  for  you  with  your  views  to  remain  a 
priest.  From  the  fact  that  you  have  been  serving  ten 
years,  I  conclude  that  you  are  still  a  young  man,  young 
enough  to  be  my  son,  if  not  my  grandson,  and  so  I  will 
take  the  liberty  of  giving  you  an  unasked  advice  as  to 
how,  in  my  opinion,  a  priest  should  act,  if  he  has  freed 
himself  from  superstition  and  has  come  to  comprehend 
Christ's  teaching  in  its  full  significance  and  wants  to 
follow  it.  Being  in  a  situation  which  is  incompatible 
with  the  practice  of  Christ's  teaching,  —  such  are  the  sit- 
uations of  the  warrior  and  the  priest,  —  people  frequently 
invent  or  adopt  some  complex,  intricate  system  of  meta- 
physics which  is  to  justify  their  situation.  It  is  against 
this  offence  that  I  should  like  to  guard  you.  For  a 
Christian  there  is  and  there  can  be  no  complicated  meta- 
physics. Everything  which  in  the  Christian  teaching 
may  be  called  metaphysics  consists  in  a  simple,  all-com- 
prehensible proposition  that  all  men  are  the  sons  of  God, 

493 


494  LETTER    TO   AN    ORTHODOX    PRIEST 

brothers,  and  so  must  love  the  Father  and  the  brothers, 
and  so  must  act  toward  others  as  they  would  that  others 
should  act  toward  them.  I  think  that  every  metaphys- 
ics above  this  was  invented  by  the  evil  one  for  the 
purpose  of  harmonizing  his  discordant  position  with  the 
Christian  teaching.  There  are  also  priests,  —  I  know 
such,  —  who,  feeling  the  incompatibility  of  their  position 
with  a  pure  understanding  of  Christianity,  think  that 
they  can  justify  themselves  with  this,  that  in  their  posi- 
tion they  can  better  struggle  against  superstitions  and 
spread  the  Christian  truth.  I  assume  that  such  a  position 
is  still  more  incorrect.  In  religious  matters  the  end  can- 
not justify  the  means,  for  the  very  reason  that  the  means 
of  departing  from  the  truth  destroy  every  possibility  of 
attaining  the  end,  which  consists  in  the  teachicg  of  the 
truth.  But  the  main  thing  is,  that  one  has  not  been 
called  to  teach  others  (Matt.  xiii.  8,  9),  but  only  to  per- 
fect oneself  in  the  truth  and  in  love.  Only  by  means  of 
this  self-perfection  (without  any  thought  of  others)  can  a 
man  act  upon  others. 

Pardon  me  for  retorting  to  what  you  have  not  told  me 
and,  perhaps,  are  not  even  thinking  of;  but,  having  re- 
ceived a  powerful  and  joyous  impression  from  your  letter, 
I  felt  like  telling  you  everything  I  think  about  the  trag- 
ical position  of  a  priest  who  has  come  to  know  the  truth, 
about  the  best  way  out  from  this  position,  and  about  the 
dangers  of  this  position. 

The  best  way  out  from  this  position  —  a  heroic  issue  — 
is,  in  my  opinion,  for  the  priest  to  collect  his  parishioners, 
to  come  out  on  the  ambo  to  them,  and,  instead  of  a  service 
and  the  worship  of  the  images,  to  bow  to  the  ground  be- 
fore the  people,  asking  their  forgiveness  for  having  led 
them  into  error.  The  second  way  out  is  the  one  which 
ten  years  ago  was  chosen  by  a  remarkable  man.  Priest 
Appolov,  whom  I  knew  from  the  Vyatka  Seminary,  and 
who  was  serving  in  the  Stavropol  Eparchy.    He  announced 


LETTER   TO   AX   ORTHODOX   PRIEST  495 

to  the  bishop  that  he  could  not,  on  account  of  his  changed 
views,  continue  to  act  as  a  priest.  He  was  called  out  to 
Stavropol,  and  the  authorities  and  the  members  of  his 
family  tormented  him  so  much  that  he  decided  to  go 
back  to  his  place ;  but,  staying  there  less  than  a  year,  he 
was  unable  to  stand  it  any  longer,  and  again  resigned  and 
had  himself  unfrocked.  His  wife  left  him.  All  these  suf- 
ferings affected  him  so  much  that  he  died,  as  a  saint,  with- 
out having  changed  his  convictions  and,  above  all,  his  love. 

That  is  a  second  way  out ;  but  I  know  how  terribly  hard 
it  is,  —  in  consideration  of  the  family  relations  of  every 
priest  and  in  consideration  of  the  surroundings,  —  and 
so  I  fully  understand  and  by  no  means  condemn  a  priest 
who  through  weakness  remains  a  priest,  in  spite  of  his 
not  believing  in  what  he  does.  One  thing  I  say  and  allow 
myself  to  counsel  (precisely  the  same  I  advise  those  Chris- 
tians to  do  of  whom  military  service  is  demanded),  and 
that  is,  not  to  use  your  reason  for  sophistry,  so  that  it 
may  appear  that,  while  acting  badly,  you  are  doing  well. 
Let  a  man  only  keep  truth  before  him  in  all  its  purity, 
without  compromising  with  his  honesty,  and  he  will  find 
a  means  of  acting  in  the  best  manner  possible,  in  accord- 
ance with  his  strength.  A  priest  who  understands  the  true 
Christian  teaching  must,  in  my  opinion,  like  any  other 
Christian,  in  the  first  place,  strive  to  know  the  truth  in  all 
its  purity  and  fulness,  —  independently  of  his  position,  — 
and,  in  the  second,  according  to  his  strength,  change 
his  position,  making  it  approach  the  recognized  truth. 
(This  approach  takes  place  of  itself,  if  a  man  is  sincere.) 
To  what  extent  a  man  approaches  it  (for  a  priest  this  is 
very  hard,  because  his  position  is  not  only  far  from  truth, 
but  even  opposed  and  hostile  to  it),  —  to  what  extent  and 
how  a  man  approaches  it,  —  that  is  his  affair  with  God,  of 
which  outsiders  cannot  judge. 

I  send  you  my  brotherly  greeting. 

August  15, 1901.  Your  loving  brother. 


LETTER   TO   A   FRENCH   PASTORS 

Dear  Sir  :  —  I  received  your  letter  and  thank  you  for 
the  sentiments  which  you  express  to  me.  I  also  thank 
you  very  much  for  the  excerpts  from  Auguste  Sabatier. 
I  am  sorry  that  I  know  this  remarkable  man  only  by 
name  and  from  references  to  him.  The  excerpts  quoted 
by  you  concerning  the  comprehension  of  Christianity 
prove  to  me  that  I  could  be  with  him  in  complete  com- 
munion of  thoughts  and  feelings,  as  also  with  you  and  all 
those  who  share  his  comprehension. 

There  is,  none  the  less,  one  point  in  which  I  do  not 
agree  with  you,  and  that  is,  your  representation  of  the 
necessity  of  the  church,  and,  therefore,  of  pastors,  that  is 
of  people  vested  with  certain  authority.  I  cannot  forget 
verses  8  and  9  of  Matt,  r.xiii.,  not  because  these  verses 
are  in  the  Gospel,  but  because  for  me  it  is  an  obvious 
truth  that  there  can  be  no  pastors,  teachers,  guides  among 
Christians,  and  that  it  is  this  very  violation  of  the  Gospel 
law  that  has  until  now  reduced  almost  to  zero  the  preach- 
ing of  the  true  Christian  doctrine. 

In  my  opinion,  the  chief  meaning  of  the  Christian 
teaching  is  the  establishment  of  a  direct  communion  be- 
tween God  and  man.  Every  man  who  takes  upon  himself 
the  rOle  of  a  mediator  in  this  communion  keeps  him  whom 
he  wants  to  guide  from  entering  into  direct  communion 
with  God,  and  —  what  is  worse  still  —  himself  completely 
departs  from  the  possibility  of  living  in  a  Christian  way. 

1  Translated  from  the  Russian  translation  of  the  original  French 
letter. 

496 


LETTER  TO  A  FRENCH  PASTOR      497 

In  my  opinion,  the  acme  of  pride,  a  sin  which  more  than 
anything  else  removes  me  from  God,  is  to  tell  myself  that 
I  am  able  to  help  others  to  live  well  and  to  save  their 
souls.  All  a  man  can  do,  if  he  strives  to  follow  the 
Christian  teaching,  is  to  try  to  perfect  himself  as  much  as 
possible  (Matt.  v.  48),  to  use  all  his  strength,  all  his 
energy,  in  this  self-perfection.  That  is  the  only  way  of 
influencing  one's  neighbours  and  helping  them  on  the 
path  of  goodness.  If  a  church  exists,  its  limits  are  not 
announced  to  any  one,  and  no  one  can  know  whether  he 
belongs  to  it  or  not.  All  a  man  can  do  and  hope  for  is 
to  strive  to  become  a  part  of  it,  but  no  one  can  be  sure 
that  he  has  become  such  indeed,  and  still  less  can  he 
assume  that  he  has  the  right  and  the  possibility  of  lead- 
ing others.  I  beg  you,  dear  sir,  to  pardon  the  frankness 
with  which  I  expound  my  opinion,  which  is  contrary  to 
yours,  and  to  believe  my  sentiments  of  sympathy  and 
respect,  with  which  I  am  always  ready  to  serve  you. 
Ydsnaya  Poly  ana,  August  26,  1901. 


ON   THE   FEANCO- RUSSIAN   ALLIANCE 

(A  letter  to  Pietro  Mazzini ') 

My  answer  to  your  first  question,  "  What  does  the 
Russian  nation  think  of  the  Eranco-Eussian  Alliance?" 
is  this  :  The  Russian  nation  —  the  real  nation  —  does 
not  have  the  slightest  conception  about  the  existence  of 
this  alliance ;  but  if  the  masses  even  knew  of  it,  I  am 
sure  that,  since  all  the  nations  are  absolutely  alike  to 
them,  their  common  sense,  as  also  their  feeling  of  hu- 
manity, would  show  them  that  this  exclusive  alliance  with 
one  nation,  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other,  can  have  no 
other  purpose  than  to  draw  them  into  hostility,  and 
perhaps  into  wars,  with  other  nations,  and  so  this  alliance 
would  be  most  disagreeable  to  them. 

In  reply  to  your  question,  "  Does  the  Russian  nation 
share  the  transports  of  the  French  nation  ? "  I  think  I 
can  say  that  not  only  does  the  Russian  nation  not  share 
these  transports  (if  they  exist  in  reality,  which  I  doubt 
very  much),  but  if  the  masses  knew  everything  that  is 
beins  said  and  done  in  France  in  connection  with  this 
alliance,  they  would  more  likely  experience  a  sentiment  of 
distrust  and  antipathy  for  the  nation  which  without  any 
rational  cause  suddenly  begins  to  manifest  an  unexpected 
and  exclusive  love  for  them. 

In  regard  to  the  third  question,  "  What  is  the  signifi- 
cance of  this  alliance  for  civilization  in  general  ? "  I 
think  I  am  right  in  supposing  that,  since  this  alliance  can 

1  Translated  from  the  llussian  rendering  of  the  French  letter. 

498 


ON  THE  FRANCO  -  RUSSIAN  ALLIANCE    499 

have  no  other  aim  than  war  or  the  menace  of  war,  directed 
against  other  nations,  it  cannot  help  but  be  harmfni.  As 
regards  the  significance  of  this  alliance  for  the  two  con- 
tracting nationalities,  it  is  clear  that,  as  in  the  past,  so 
in  the  future  it  will  be  a  positive  evil  for  both  nations. 
The  French  government,  the  press,  and  all  that  part  of 
French  society  which  extols  this  alliance,  have  already 
made,  and  will  be  more  and  more  compelled  to  make, 
concessions  and  compromises  in  the  traditions  of  a  free 
and  humane  nation,  in  order  to  pretend  to  agree,  or 
actually  to  agree,  with  the  intentions  and  sentiments 
of  the  most  despotic,  backward,  and  cruel  government  in 
all  of  Europe.  That  has  been  and  will  be  a  great  detri- 
ment to  France,  while  on  Russia  this  alliance  has  already 
had,  and  will  have,  if  continued,  a  still  more  deleterious 
effect.  Ever  since  this  ill-fated  alliance,  the  Russian 
government,  which  at  one  time  was  ashamed  of  the 
opinion  of  Europe  and  counted  with  it,  now  no  longer 
cares  for  it,  and,  conscious  of  the  support  of  this  strange 
friendship  on  the  part  of  the  nation  which  is  considered 
to  be  the  most  civilized  in  the  world,  it  is  becoming  with 
every  day  more  reactionary,  despotic,  and  cruel.  Thus 
this  savage  and  unfortunate  alliance  can,  in  my  opinion, 
have  no  other  than  a  most  negative  effect  upon  the  well- 
being  of  the  two  nations,  as  also  upon  civilization  in 
general. 

Ydsnaya  Polydna,  Se^teniber  9, 1901. 


OlSr   THE    STEEET    EIOTS 

I  HAVE  read  the  Popular  Famphlets.  The  one  about 
How  the  Priests  Have  Enslaved  the  People  toith  Christ's 
Teaching  is  beautiful,  and  I  subscribe  to  it  with  both  my 
hands.  So,  too,  the  pamphlet  About  the  Stundists  is 
good. 

The  pamphlet  About  the  Street  Riots  is  very  miserable. 
It  is  not  only  immoral,  but  also  impracticable  and  simply 
stupid.  If  I  were  the  government,  I  would  print  such 
pamphlets  at  government  expense  and  would  distribute 
millions  of  copies  of  them.  Nothing  can  more  thoroughly 
undermine  or  make  impossible  the  people's  confidence  in 
the  men  who  share  the  views  expressed  there,  than  such 
pamphlets. 

What  the  pamphlet  proposes  is  immoral,  because,  if  a 
soldier  has  by  a  whole  series  of  suggestions  (hypnosis) 
been  brought  to  this,  that  he  is  put  to  the  necessity  of 
either  killing  or  enduring  great  suffering,  and,  besides,  his 
intelligence  is  so  bedimmed  that  he  does  not  see  the  sin 
of  murder,  a  man  who  would  listen  to  the  author  of  the 
pamphlet  would  prepare  himself  for  murder,  and  would 
accomplish  it,  provoked  to  it  by  nothing  very  doubtful, 
but  by  the  assertions  of  the  author  of  the  pamphlet,  that 
the  commission  of  the  murder  will  make  it  better  for  him 
and  for  his  brothers  to  live  in  the  world. 

What  the  pamphlet  proposes  is  impracticable,  because 
it  is  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  unarmed,  undisciphned 
men  should  be  able  to  take  the  arms  away  from  armed 
and  disciphned  men,  and  if  this  should  happen  anywhere, 

500 


ON    THE    STREET    RIOTS  501 

though  there  is  but  one  chance  in  a  thousand  for  it,  those 
men  who  had  seized  the  arms  would  immediately  be 
crushed  by  real  troops  from  other  places. 

It  is  stupid,  because  for  men  to  prepare  themselves  for 
murder,  if  they  wish  to  free  themselves  from  murders  and 
the  threat  of  murder,  means  to  give  their  enemies  the 
only  legitimate  reason  for  using  against  them  every 
possible  act  of  violence,  and  even  murder,  and  to  justify 
all  those  which  were  committed  before. 

I  think  it  is  superfluous  for  me  to  proclaim  that  I  do 
not  agree  with  the  men  who  share  the  views  of  the 
pamphlet  concerning  the  street  riots.  I  have  for  almost 
thirty  years  been  repeating  one  and  the  same  thing  from 
all  sides,  namely,  that  the  whole  thing  consists  in  the 
spiritual  condition  of  men,  that  every  act  of  violence  is  a 
sin,  and  that  the  violence  of  those  who  struggle  against 
violence  is  madness.  And  so  a  sincere  man  will  not  con- 
fuse me  with  revolutionists  who  practise  violence ;  but 
that  an  insincere  man  can  calumniate  any  one  he  pleases 
in  any  way  he  may  wish,  —  against  this  no  one  can  pro- 
tect himself,  and  there  is  even  no  need  to  do  so. 

December  2, 1901. 


EXPRESSIONS    ON    THE    KISHINEV    TRAGEDY 


CABLEGKAM    TO    THE    "  NOKTH    AMEKICAN    REVIEW 


)) 


The  government  is  to  blame,  in  the  first  place,  for 
exempting  the  Jews,  as  a  special  caste,  from  the  common 
rights ;  in  the  second,  for  the  forcible  inculcation  of  idol- 
atry, instead  of  Christianity,  on  the  Russian  people. 

LETTER    TO    A    RUSSIAN     EDITOR 

The  terrible  crime  committed  in  Kishinev  has  affected 
me  painfully.  I  partly  expressed  my  relation  to  this 
affair  in  a  letter  to  a  Jew,  an  acquaintance  of  mine,  a  copy 
of  which  I  here  enclose. 

The  other  day  we  sent  from  Moscow  a  collective  letter 
to  the  Mayor  of  Kishinev,  in  which  we  expressed  our 
sentiments  in  regard  to  this  terrible  matter. 

It  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  cooperate  with  you  in 
your  volume  of  collections,  and  I  will  try  to  write  some- 
thing to  fit  the  occasion. 

Unfortunately,  what  I  have  to  say,  namely,  that  the 
government  alone  is  to  blame,  not  only  for  the  Kishinev 
riots,  but  also  for  all  that  disorder  which  has  taken  pos- 
session of  a  certain  small  part  of  the  Russian  population, 
—  by  no  means  the  masses,  —  unfortunately  I  cannot  say 
so  in  a  Russian  publication. 

May  6,  1901. 

502 


THE    KISHINEV    TRAGEDY  503 

LETTER    TO    A    JEW 

I  have  received  your  letter.  I  have  received  several 
such  letters.  All  my  correspoudeuts,  who  write  like  you, 
ask  me  to  express  my  opinion  about  the  Kishinev  affair. 
It  seems  to  me  that  in  these  requests  there  is  a  certain 
misunderstanding.  It  is  assumed  that  my  voice  has  some 
weight,  and  so  I  am  asked  to  express  my  opinion  of  such 
an  important  event,  so  complex  in  its  causes,  as  the  awful 
deed  committed  in  Kishinev. 

The  misunderstanding  consists  in  demanding  of  me  the 
activity  of  a  publicist,  whereas  I  am  a  man  all  absorbed 
in  one  very  definite  question,  which  has  nothing  in  com- 
mon with  the  appreciation  of  contemporary  events,  namely, 
with  the  religious  Cjuestion  and  its  apphcation  to  life.  It 
is  just  as  unreasonable  to  demand  of  me  a  public  expres- 
sion of  opinion  concerning  contemporary  events,  as  to 
demand  it  of  any  specialist  who  enjoys  a  certain  reputa- 
tion. I  may  —  and  I  have  done  so  —  make  use  of  some 
contemporary  event  for  the  purpose  of  illustrating  an  idea 
developed  by  me,  but  I  am  absolutely  unable,  even  if  I 
considered  this  necessary,  to  express  my  opinion,  as  the 
publicists  do,  on  all  contemporary,  however  important, 
events.  If  I  had  to  act  in  this  manner,  I  should  be 
obliged  to  express  thoughtless  or  trite  ideas,  repeating 
what  has  been  said  by  others,  and  then,  it  is  obvious, 
there  would  not  exist  that  significance  of  my  opinion,  on 
the  basis  of  w^hich  I  am  asked  to  express  myself. 

But  as  regards  my  relation  to  the  Jews  and  the  terrible 
Kishinev  affair,  I  should  think  that  all  those  who  are 
interested  in  my  world-conception  ought  to  know  what 
it  is.  My  relation  to  the  Jews  cannot  be  any  other  than 
that  to  my  brothers,  whom  I  love,  not  because  they  are 
Jews,  but  because  we  and  they,  like  all  men,  are  the  sons 
of  one  Father,  God,  and  this  love  does  not  demand  any 
effort  of  me,  since  I  have  met  and  know  very  good  people 
among  the  Jews. 


504  THE    KISHINEV    TRAGEDY 

But  my  relation  to  the  Kishinev  crime  is  also  deter- 
mined of  itself  by  my  religious  world-conception.  Even 
then,  after  the  first  newpaper  report,  I  understood  all  the 
horror  of  what  had  taken  place,  and  experienced  a  heavy 
mixed  feeling  of  pity  for  the  innocent  victims  of  the  bes- 
tiality of  the  crowd,  of  perplexity  in  regard  to  the  beastli- 
ness of  these  people,  who  call  themselves  Christians,  of 
disgust  and  abhorrence  toward  those  so-called  cultured 
people  who  stirred  up  the  crowd  and  sympathized  with 
its  deeds,  and,  above  all,  of  horror  before  the  real  culprit, 
our  government,  with  its  stultifying  and  fanaticizing  clergy 
and  with  its  robber  gang  of  officials.  The  Kishinev  trag- 
edy is  only  a  direct  consequence  of  the  propaganda  of  lies 
and  violence,  which  the  Eussian  government  has  con- 
ducted with  such  tension  and  stubbornness. 

But  the  relation  of  the  government  to  this  event  is 
only  a  new  proof  of  its  coarse  egoism,  which  does  not 
stop  before  any  cruelties,  when  it  is  concerned  about  the 
suppression  of  a  movement  which  seems  to  it  to  be  dan- 
gerous, and  of  its  complete  indifference  —  resembling  the 
indifference  of  the  Turkish  government  to  the  Armenian 
atrocities  —  to  the  most  terrible  cruelties,  so  long  as-  they 
do  not  touch  its  own  interests. 

This  is  all  I  can  say  h  propos  of  the  Kishinev  affair,  but 
I  have  said  all  that  before. 

But  if  you  ask  me  what,  in  my  opinion,  the  Jews 
should  do,  my  answer  again  results  naturally  from  that 
Christian  teaching  which  I  try  to  understand  and  which 
I  try  to  follow.  The  Jews,  like  any  other  people,  need 
but  this  for  their  good :  as  much  as  possible  in  their  lives 
to  follow  the  universal  rule,  —  to  act  toward  others  as 
they  would  that  others  should  act  toward  them,  and  to 
struggle  with  the  government,  not  by  means  of  violence, 
—  this  means  must  be  left  to  the  government,  —  but  by 
means  of  a  good  life,  which  not  only  excludes  every  vio- 
lence against  one's  neighbour,  but  even  every  participation 


THE    KISHINEV    TRAGEDY  605 

in  violence  and  all  use  for  one's  advantage  of  the  instru- 
ments of  violence,  as  established  by  the  government. 

This  is  all  —  it  is  both  old  and  well  known  —  I  have 
to  say  on  the  occasion  of  the  terrible  Kishinev  tragedy. 

Ydsnaya  Poly  ana,  April  £7, 1903. 

.  .  .  When  the  children  ask  whether  those  who  destroy 
and  loot  the  property  of  their  neighbours  and  torment 
and  kill  them  are  doing  right,  there  is  but  one  answer, 
namely,  that  such  men  are  great  criminals,  who  violate 
God's  chief  law  of  the  brotherhood  of  all  men  and  of  love 
among  themselves. 

But  if  they  ask  who  is  to  blame  for  such  evil  deeds,  I 
should  answer  that  it  is  the  Eussian  government  that  is 
to  blame,  in  the  first  place,  because  it  deprives  the  Jews 
of  the  most  primitive  and  natural  rights  and  makes  of 
them  a  separate  caste;  in  the  second  place,  because  it 
inculcates  upon  the  Russian  people  an  idolatrous  religion, 
called  Christian  Orthodoxy,  and,  concealing  the  true 
Christianity  from  the  people,  in  every  way  corrupts  them. 

But  if  they  ask  what  the  Jews  are  to  do  in  order  to 
free  themselves  from  these  calamities,  I  should  answer 
that  the  Jews  should  do  what  all  people  should  always 
do,  especially  in  times  of  calamities,  that  is,  of  trials,  — 
they  should  try  more  and  more  clearly  to  know  God's  law 
and  more  and  more  carry  out  in  life  God's  one  and  eternal 
law  of  union  and  love,  which  is  expressed  in  the  utterance 
about  doing  unto  others  as  we  would  that  others  should 
do  to  us. 

These  are  all  the  answers  which  I  can  give  to  your 
questions  and  to  the  questions  of  your  pupils.  I  shall  be 
very  glad,  if  they  satisfy  you  and  them. 

1903. 


LETTERS   SINCE   JANUARY,    1902 

ANSWER   TO    A    SWEDISH    SOCIETY    OF    AKTISTS    AND 

SCHOLAES 

Gentlemen  :  —  The  award  of  the  Nobel  Prize  to  some 
one  else,  and  not  to  me,  was  doubly  agreeable  to  me :  in 
the  first  place,  it  saved  me  the  hard  necessity  of  disposing 
in  one  way  or  another  of  the  money,  which  is  by  all  other 
men  considered  to  be  very  useful  and  necessary,  but  by 
me  a  source  of  every  kind  of  evil ;  in  the  second  place,  it 
gave  some  people  whom  I  respect  an  occasion  for  express- 
ing their  sympathy  to  me,  for  which  I  thank  them  with 
all  my  heart. 

Gdspra,  January  20, 1902. 

Dear  :  —  I  fully  agree  with  you  in  what  you 

write.  I  slowly  came  to  this  conviction  and  now  hold 
it  firmly :  I  have  expressed  it  in  my  article,  Wh at  Is 
Religion,  and  in  What  Does  Its  Essence  Consist  ?  which 
Tctuertkoff  is,  no  doubt,  printing  now. 

But  there  is  one  very  important  point  on  which  I  differ 
from  you :  indeed,  at  the  present  time,  especially  with  us 
in  Russia,  the  ecclesiastic  and  governmental  deceptions 
form  the  chief  obstacle  for  the  establishment  of  the 
Christian  life  or  even  of  an  approach  to  it,  but  it  cannot 
be  said  that  a  struggle  with  these  deceptions  forms  the 
chief  object  of  a  Christian.  The  chief  object  of  a  Chris- 
tian, by  means  of  which  he  attains  all  ends,  among  them 
the  one  which  now  confronts  one  in  Russia,  is  everywhere 

506 


LETTERS    SINCE    JANUARY,    1902  607 

and  always  this  one :  to  kindle  his  fire  and  to  make  it 
shine  before  people.  But  the  diversion  of  a  man's  whole 
attention,  of  all  his  efforts  to  some  one  private  purpose, 
as,  for  example,  to  a  life  of  manual  labour,  to  preaching, 
or,  as  in  the  present  case,  to  a  struggle  with  these  or 
those  deceptions,  is  always  a  mistake,  like  what  a  man 
would  do  at  an  inundation,  if,  instead  of  letting  the  water 
out  of  the  chief  source  or  working  on  the  dam  which 
retains  the  water,  he  should  busy  himself  with  putting 
up  barriers  in  his  street,  without  observing  that  the  water 
will  inundate  him  from  some  other  side. 

Having  received  your  letter  I  intended  to  write  to  you, 
to  remind  you  that  in  the  struggle  we  must  be  as  wise  as 
the  serpents,  and  as  meek  as  the  doves ;  but  that  is  not 
enough :  we  must  not  for  a  minute  forget  the  main  end 
and  must  not  abandon  ourselves  to  working  for  the  at- 
tainment of  some  private  end.  This  means  not  that  we 
should  not  struggle  against  the  deceptions  (knowing  that 
they  are  the  greatest  evil  we  shall  do  so  involuntarily), 
but  that  we  should  struggle  against  them  only  when  this 
struggle  appears  as  the  result  of  the  general  striving  after 
self-perfection.  Another  comparison  :  the  houses  have  to 
be  protected  against  the  possibility  of  catching  fire  one 
from  another.  It  is  possible  to  cut  a  lot  of  green  branches 
and  stick  them  between  the  houses,  and  for  a  day  or  two 
this  will  apparently  be  right.  But  it  is  also  possible  to 
set  out  a  lot  of  young  trees,  and  when  these  take  root  and 
grow  up  it  will  indeed  be  for  all  times.  It  is  necessary 
for  our  activity  to  have  roots.  These  roots  are  in  our 
submission  to  the  will  of  God,  in  our  personal  life,  when 
devoted  to  self-perfection  and  the  increase  of  love. 

My  physical  health  is  still  bad,  but  spiritually  I  feel 
very  well,  and  I  can  work,  and  do  work  as  well  as  I  can, 
and  more  seriously,  in  view  of  the  near  end.  I  think  of 
you  and  love  you  and  am  afraid  for  your  zeal. 

Gds^ra,  January  20,  1902. 


508  LETTERS    SINCE    JANUARY,    1902 

.  ,  .  Let  us  become  Chuvashes  and  listen,  not  to  two 
prophets  (there  are  no  prophets),  but  to  two  men. 

One  says  to  the  Chuvash:  "Do  you  feel  in  yourself 
anything  outside  your  body  ?  "  —  Every  Chuvash  wiU  say 
that  he  feels  something  spiritual,  thinking,  loving. — 
Then  we  shall  ask  him :  "  Is  the  spiritual  being  which 
you  feel  in  yourself  almighty?"  —  The  Chuvash  will  say 
that  it  is  not,  that  he  feels  that  this  bemg  is  limited.  — 
Then  we  shall  say  to  him :  "  But  if  the  being  which  you 
recognize  in  yourself  is  limited,  there  must  be  a  being 
which  is  unlimited.  This  unlimited  being  is  God,  whose 
essence  you  feel  in  yourself  limited,  and  who,  as  an  un- 
hmited  being,  embraces  you  in  such  a  way  that  you  are 
in  Him."  —  Thus  will  the  first  man  speak,  without  assert- 
ing about  himself  that  he  is  from  God,  that  he  is  a 
prophet,  but  only  asserting  what  everybody  knows  and 
may  observe  in  himself. 

Another,  Mohammed,  will  begin  by  saying:  "Believe 
me  that  I  am  a  prophet  and  that  everything  which  I 
shall  tell  you  which  is  written  in  my  Koran  is  the  veri- 
table truth,  as  revealed  to  me  by  God  Himself."  And  he 
will  go  on  to  expound  all  his  doctrine.  To  this  the  Chu- 
vash, if  he  is  not  altogether  a  fool  (and  there  are  many 
clever  men  among  them),  will  say  :  "  Why  should  I  be- 
lieve you  that  everything  you  say  is  from  God  ?  I  did 
not  see  God  transmit  His  truth  to  you,  and  I  have  not  the 
slightest  proofs  that  you  are  a  prophet,  the  more  so  since 
I  have  been  told  that  there  are  Taoists,  Buddhists,  Brah- 
mins, Mormons,  who  have  just  such  prophets  as  you,  who 
say  of  themselves  precisely  the  same  as  what  you  say  of 
yourself.  Thus,  your  saying  about  yourself  that  you  are 
a  prophet  cannot  in  the  least  convince  me  that  what  you 
say  and  what  is  written  in  the  Koran  is  the  veritable 
truth.  Your  having  flown  to  the  seventh  heaven  does 
not  convince  me  in  the  least,  because  I  did  not  see  it. 
But  what  is  written  in  the  Koran  is  not  quite  clear,  and 


LETTERS    SINCE    JANUARY,    1902  509 

often  intricate,  wordy,  arbitrary,  and  even  historically  in- 
correct, as  I  have  heard  from  people.  What  can  alone 
convince  me  is  what  I  cognize  myself  and  am  able  to 
verify  by  reasoning  and  inner  experience." 

Thus  will  the  clever  Chuvash  speak  in  reply  to  the 
words  of  the  second  man,  and  I  think  he  will  be  quite 
right. 

So  this  is  what  I  think  about  Mohammedanism.  It 
will  be  a  good  teaching  and  will  coincide  with  the  teach- 
ing of  all  truly  religious  men,  only  when  it  shall  reject 
the  bliud  faith  in  Mohammed  and  the  Koran  and  will 
take  from  that  belief  what  is  in  agreement  with  the 
reason  and  the  conscience  of  all  men.  .  .  . 

November,  1902. 

...  I  have  for  the  last  twenty  years  established  such 
a  relation  to  God  and  the  demands  arising  from  this  rela- 
tion ;  and  with  this  relation  I  have  been  living  until  the 
present,  and  the  longer  T  live,  the  more  I  am  confirmed 
in  it ;  and,  approaching  death,  which  I  await  every  day,  I 
experience  full  peace  and  equal  joy  of  life  and  of  death. 

My  belief  does  not  agree  with  yours ;  but  1  do  not  tell 
or  advise  you  to  give  up  yours  and  accept  mine.  I  know 
that  this  is  as  impossible  for  you  as  to  change  your 
physiological  nature,  —  to  find  a  taste  in  what  is  nau- 
seating to  you,  and  vice  versa.  And  so  I  not  only  do 
not  advise  you  to  do  so,  but,  on  the  contrary,  advise  you 
to  stick  to  what  is  your  own  and  to  work  it  out  still 
farther,  if  it  is  at  all  subject  to  development. 

A  man  can  believe  only  what  he  is  led  to  believe  by 
the  aggregate  of  all  his  spiritual  forces. 

Each  of  us  looks  at  the  world  and  at  the  beginning  of 
it  through  the  little  window  which  he  himself  has  cut  out 
or  chosen  of  his  free  will.  And  so  it  may  happen  that  a 
man  who  sees  dimly  and  whose  window  is  not  clear  may 
himself,  of  his  own  will,  pass  over  to  another  man's  win- 


510  LETTERS    SINCE    JANUARY,    1902 

dow ;  but  it  is  quite  unreasonable  and,  to  say  the  least, 
impolite  to  call  a  man,  who  is  satisfied  with  what  he  sees, 
away  from  his  window,  to  your  own. 

We  all  see  one  and  the  same  God,  we  all  live  by  His 
will,  and  we  all,  looking  at  Him  from  various  sides,  are 
able  to  do  His  chief  law,  —  to  love  one  another,  —  in  spite 
of  the  difference  of  our  view  of  Him.  ... 

March,  1903. 

.  .  .  You  do  not  understand  what  is  meant  by  the  word 
"  God,"  and  the  mention  of  this  word  always  irritates  you. 
From  this  you  conclude  that  "  it  is  time  for  humanity  to 
stop  talking  of  God,  wliom  no  one  understands." 

It  is  very  natural  for  you  to  be  irritated  by  the  use  of  a 
word  the  meaning  of  which  you  do  not  understand.  It  is 
always  so.  But  your  conclusion  that  no  one  understands 
what  God  is,  because  you  do  not  understand  it,  is,  to  say 
the  least,  strange.  The  fact  that  all  mankind  has  always 
used  this  word,  being  in  need  of  the  concept,  ought  to 
have  led  you  to  the  thought  that  it  is  not  humanity  that 
is  to  blame,  but  you,  for  not  understanding  that  which  is 
understood  by  the  whole  of  mankind  or  a  great  majority 
of  it,  and  that,  therefore,  you  ought  not  to  advise  man- 
kind to  stop  talking  of  God,  but  should  yourself  try  to 
understand  what  you  do  not  understand. 

Every  man,  like  yourself,  must  of  necessity  recognize 
himself  to  be  a  part  of  something  infinite.  It  is  this 
infinite,  of  which  man  recognizes  himself  to  be  a  part, 
that  is  God. 

For  unenlightened  men,  to  which  division  belong  the 
vast  majority  of  the  so-called  learned,  who  do  not  under- 
stand anything  but  matter,  God  will  be  matter,  endless  in 
time  and  space.  Such  a  concept  of  God  will  be  very  silly, 
but  still  they  wiU  have  a  God  of  their  own,  no  matter  how 
silly.  But  for  enlightened  men,  who  understand  that  the 
beginning  and  essence  of  life  is  not  in   matter,  but  in 


LETTERS    SINCE   JANUARY,    1902  511 


the  spirit,  God  will  be  that  infinite  unlimited  being  which 
they  recognize  in  themselves  within  boundaries  limited 
by  time  and  space. 

And  such  a  God  has  been  recognized  and  acknowledged 
and  will  be  acknowledged  by  mankind  at  all  times,  so  long 
as  it  does  not  fall  into  a  beastly  state. 

1903. 

.  .  .  You  say  that  you  cannot  believe  in  God  the 
Creator,  who  created  man  and  all  beings,  which  are  sub- 
ject to  diseases,  struggle,  sufferings. 

But  the  concept  of  God  the  Creator  is  an  old  supersti- 
tion, which  it  is  not  only  superfluous,  but  even  harmful  to 
believe  in.  We  have  not  the  slightest  right  to  imagine  a 
God  the  Creator. 

All  we  can  assert  is  this,  that  we  exist  amidst  the 
world,  which  presents  itself  to  us  as  infinite  in  space  and 
time,  and  that  the  basis  of  our  life  is  something  immate- 
rial. We  recognize  this  principle  in  ourselves  in  a  limited 
condition,  and  in  consequence  of  it  cannot  help  having  a 
concept  of  this  immaterial  principle,  which  is  not  limited 
and  not  subject  to  conditions  of  time  and  space.  This 
principle  we  call  God. 

This  basis  of  our  life  cannot  be  good  or  evil.  It  is 
that  which  is,  to  6v.  What  we  call  evil  is  merely  our 
ignorance  of  the  consequences  of  what  we  see  only  the 
causes  of. 

The  true  teaching  of  hfe,  which  has  been  preached  by 
all  the  sages,  Buddha,  Confucius,  the  Brahmins,  Lao-tse, 
Isaiah,  aud  Jesus,  consists  in  the  recognition  of  that  im- 
material principle  which  forms  our  life.  Only  on  the 
conciousness  of  this  principle  may  be  based  and  actually 
is  based  my  belief  in  my  existence,  —  not  the  future,  but 
the  everlasting  existence.  The  moment  I  am  convinced 
that  hfe  consists  in  the  immaterial  principle,  as  cognized 
by  me,  recognized  by  me  as  my  true  ego,  I  can  no  longer 


512  LETTERS    SINCE    JANUARY,    1902 

believe  in  the  destruction  of  this  extratemporal  and  extra- 
spatial  ego. 

The  concept  of  death  is  only  an  error,  which  is  called 
forth  by  the  false  concept  that  man's  real  ego  is  a  material 
integument. 

Such  are,  in  a  few  words,  the  causes  which  make  me 
think  that  death  is  not  an  evil,  but  a  change  of  form, 
which  can  be  only  a  progress  in  life,  just  as,  according  to 
my  observation,  is  all  that  which  during  this  existence  is 
taking  place  in  me  and  in  all  beings. 

1903. 

.  .  .  John  iii.  13,  in  my  opinion,  means  this,  that  every 
man  is  a  son  of  God,  and  in  every  man  there  is  a  particle 
of  the  divinity.  The  next  two  verses  mean,  that  this  par- 
ticle of  God,  which  is  in  every  man,  must  be  glorified  in 
each  of  us,  and  this  glorifying  will  free  us  from  all  evils, 
as  did  the  glorified  serpent  in  the  wilderness. 

The  idea  is,  that  man  must  recognize  himself  to  be  the 
son  of  God,  and  so  he  must  recognize  all  other  men  to  be. 
If  man  only  understood  and  remembered  who  he  is,  he 
would  not  abase  and  defile  his  dignity  with  contemptible, 
low  cares  and  acts.  And  if  he  remembered  that  every 
man  is  just  such  a  son  of  God,  he  would  not  permit  him- 
self to  insult  and  despise  men,  —  the  sons  of  God  and  his 
brothers. 

In  these  verses  is  the  essence  of  Christ's  teaching.  .  .  . 

1903. 

No  one,  much  less  I,  can  be  out  of  sympathy  with  his 
plan  of  a  universal  strike.  But  for  such  a  thing  to  take 
place,  it  is  necessary  for  people  to  be  united  in  one  com- 
prehension. Such  union  of  men  in  one  comprehension 
is  given  by  religion  only.  And  so,  to  attain  the  end 
toward  which  he  is  striving,  it  is  necessary  to  contribute 
to  the  dissemination  and  establishment  of  the  one  true 


LETTERS    SINCE    JANUAKT,    1902  513 

religion.     It  is  as  impossible  to  arrange  a  universal  strike 
from  men  of  various  conceptions  of  life,  as  it  is  impos- 
sible to  bake  bread  from  rye  that  has  not  yet  matured 
and  is  still  in  the  ear. 
1903. 

I  was  very  glad  to  receive  your  letter,  dear 


I  have  for  a  long  time  been  thinking  of  you  and  of 
those  subjects  of  which  you  write,  the  most  important 
subjects  in  the  world. 

I  have  not  only  not  changed  my  view  of  myself  grati- 
fying my  own  prime  needs,  but  even  feel  more  vividly 
than  ever  the  importance  of  it  and  the  sin  of  my  non- 
fulfilment  of  it.  There  have  been  many  causes  which 
have  drawn  me  away  from  this  fulfilment,  but  I  will  not 
count  them  over,  because  the  chief  cause  is  my  weakness, 
my  sin.  And  so  the  reception  of  your  letter  has  been 
a  spiritual  joy  for  me,  —  an  arraignment  and  a  reminder. 
There  is  one  thing  that  consoles  me,  and  that  is,  that,  while 
I  lived  badly,  I  did  not  deceive,  did  not  justify  myself, 
and  never  said  to  myself  that  I  could  free  myself  from 
this  labour,  for  the  reason  that  I  write  books ;  I  have  always 
recognized  what  you  say,  —  that  just  as  I  have  to  read 
a  good  book,  so  does  he  who  works  for  me,  and  that,  if  I 
am  able  to  write  a  good  book,  there  are  hundreds  and 
thousands  of  men  who  could  write  better  books,  if  they 
were  not  oppressed  and  crushed  by  work.  Thus  I  not 
only  do  not  disagree  with  you,  but  also,  being  conscious 
of  my  sin  and  suffering  from  it,  more  strongly  than  ever 
recognize  the  prime  importance  of  denying  the  right  to 
use  the  extorted  labour  of  another  man. 

As  I  thought  and  heard  of  you,  I  recognized  the  whole 
burden  of  your  situation,  and  at  the  same  time  did  not 
stop  envying  you.  Do  not  lose  your  courage,  dear  friend. 
"  He  that  endureth  to  the  end  shall  be  saved,"  refers 
directly  to  your  situation.     I  think  that  no  worry   can 


514  LETTERS    SINCE    JANUARY,    1902 

keep  a  man  from  thinking  rightly  (as  I,  indeed,  see  from 
your  letter).  What  interferes  with  right  reasoning  is 
idleness  and  luxury,  and  that  I  frequently  feel  in  my 
own  case. 

However  strange  and  bad  it  may  seem  that  I,  who  live 
in  luxury,  should  permit  myself  to  advise  you  to  continue 
living  in  want,  I  do  so  boldly,  because  I  cannot  for  a 
minute  doubt  that  your  life  is  a  good  life  before  your  own 
conscience,  before  God,  and  so  most  necessary  and  useful 
to  men ;  while  my  activity,  no  matter  how  useful  it  may 
appear  to  some  people,  loses,  —  I  wish  to  hope,  not  every- 
thing, —  but  certainly  the  greatest  part  of  its  meaning,  in 
consequence  of  the  non-fulfilment  of  the  chief  symptom 
of  the  sincerity  of  what  I  profess. 

The  other  day  I  had  a  visit  from  a  clever  and  religious 
American,  Bryan,  and  he  asked  me  why  I  considered 
simple  manual  labour  indispensable.  I  told  him  almost 
the  same  as  you  write,  that,  in  the  first  place,  it  is  a  sign 
of  sincerity  in  recognizing  the  equality  of  all  men ;  in  the 
second,  it  brings  us  nearer  to  the  majority  of  labouring 
men,  from  whom  we  are  fenced  off  by  a  wall,  if  we  make 
use  of  their  want ;  in  the  third,  it  gives  us  the  highest 
good,  peace  of  mind,  which  does  not  exist  and  cannot 
exist  in  the  case  of  a  sincere  man,  who  makes  use  of 
the  services  of  slaves. 

So  this  is  my  answer  to  the  first  point  of  your  letter. 
Now  as  to  the  second,  the  most  difficult  point,  that  about 
the  religious  education. 

In  education  in  general,  both  physical  and  mental,  I 
assume  it  to  be  most  important  not  to  force  anything  on 
the  children,  but  to  wait  and  answer  their  demands, 
as  they  arise ;  this  is  most  particularly  necessary  in  the 
chief  subject  of  education,  —  in  religious  education. 

As  it  is  useless  and  harmful  to  feed  a  child  when  he 
does  not  want  to  eat,  or  to  force  upon  him  information 
which  does  not  interest  him  and  he  does  not  need,  so  it  is 


LETTERS    SINCE   JANUARY,    1902  51 5 

even  more  harmful  to  impress  children  with  any  religious 
conceptions  for  which  they  do  not  ask,  and  for  the  most 
part  to  formulate  them  coarsely  and  thus  to  impair  that 
religious  relation  to  life  which  at  this  time  may  uncon- 
sciously arise  and  estabhsh  itself  in  the  child. 

All  that  is  necessary,  it  seems  to  me,  is  to  answer  with 
absolute  truthfulness  the  questions  put  by  the  child.  It 
seems  very  simple  to  answer  truthfully  a  child's  religious 
questions,  but  in  reality  this  can  be  done  only  by  him 
who  has  answered  truthfully  to  himself  religious  ques- 
tions about  God,  Kfe,  death,  good,  and  evil,  —  those  very 
questions  which  children  always  put  very  clearly  and 
definitely. 

Here  there  is  confirmed  what  I  have  always  thought  of 
education  and  what  you  say  in  your  letter,  namely,  that 
the  essence  of  the  education  of  children  consists  in  the 
education  of  oneself.  However  strange  this  may  seem, 
this  self-education  is  the  most  powerful  weapon  which 
parents  have  for  influencing  their  children.  And  that 
first  article,  which  your  future  lady  neighbours  have  made 
their  own,  namely,  "  Perfect  yourself,"  is  the  highest  and, 
however  strange  this  may  seem,  the  most  practical  activ- 
ity (in  the  sense  of  ser\"ing  other  men,  influencing  other 
men)  which  a  man  can  have.  Even  so  the  conditions  of 
your  hard  life,  which  you,  no  doubt,  do  not  properly 
appreciate,  are  most  advantageous  in  the  matter  of  edu- 
cation. Your  life  is  serious,  and  your  children  see  and 
understand  it. 

But  if  you  want  from  me  a  more  definite  indication  as 
to  what  to  read  or  put  into  the  children's  hands  for  the 
purpose  of  religious  education,  I  should  say  that  it  is  not 
right  to  confine  oneself  to  the  religious  writings  of  one 
belief,  —  in  our  case,  that  of  Christianity,  —  but  one  should 
use  the  Buddhist,  Brahmin,  Confucianist,  Jewish  religious 
literature  on   a  par  with  the  Christian. 

This  communion   with  you   has  given  me  very,  very 


516  LETTERS    SINCE   JANUARY,    1902 

much  pleasure.  I  wish  it  could  be  one-hundpedth  part 
as  useful  to  you  as  it  is  to  me,  and  so  I  wish  it  were 
frequently  repeated. 

Ydsnaya  Foly'dna,  December  10,  1903. 


EXTRACTS 

From  Unpublished  Diaries,  Undated  Letters,  Etc. 


•v 


EXTRACTS 

From  Unpublished  Diaries,  Undated  Letters,  Etc. 


Of  late  I  have  been  shocked,  not  by  physical  disfigure- 
ments and  sores,  but  by  spiritual  ones,  of  which  the  most 
obvious  disficjuremeuts  are  the  words  of  one  who  uses  all 
methods  for  concealing  the  truth  and  advancing  the  lie 
in  place  of  the  truth. 

The  sophism  of  Pobyedonostsev's  retort  is  this  :  we  have 
complete  religious  toleration  ;  we  allow  the  erection  of 
churches  of  all  religions  and  the  celebration  of  divine  serv- 
ices in  them,  —  of  christening,  marrying,  burying,  taking 
the  oath,  and  so  forth,  according  to  the  custom  of  each ; 
but  we  prohibit  every  religion  from  preaching  its  doc- 
trine, that  is,  from  converting  from  Orthodoxy,  as  they 
call  it.  It  is  assumed  that  religion  consists  only  in  the 
fulfilment  of  certain  external  acts  of  life,  —  in  divine  serv- 
ice, burials,  christening,  marriage,  swearing,  and  nothing 
else,  —  and  that  every  religion  is  permitted  to  perform 
these  acts  according  to  its  own  rites,  that  is,  a  Mohamme- 
dan is  not  compelled  to  have  his  children  baptized,  and  so 
forth.  This  is  not  religious  toleration,  but  the  absence  of 
violence,  such  as  would  not  cause  any  men  of  a  strange 
faith  to  go  to  Russia.  We  have  not  here  as  yet  anything 
to  do  with  religion.     This  is  dead  form,  while  religion  is 

619 


520     EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS 

something  living.  It  is  something  living,  if  for  no  other 
reason,  because  new  men  are  born  all  the  time,  and  for 
them  exists  the  question,  "  Of  what  religion  ? "  This 
question  is  again  decided  in  a  dead  way,  that  is,  the  chil- 
dren are  of  their  parents'  religion.  Consequently  it  is  not 
a  religious,  but  a  civil  question ;  now  the  civil  question 
is  not  decided  on  the  basis  of  what  ought  to  guide  every 
civil  act,  —  justice:  (1)  Children  one  of  whose  parents 
is  Orthodox  must  be  Orthodox ;  (2)  one  may  orally  and 
in  writing  preach  Orthodoxy,  but  no  other  religion ;  (3)  it 
is  permissible  to  convert  to  Orthodoxy,  that  is  called  mis- 
sionary work,  but  not  to  any  other  religion. 

These  three  points  do  not  exist  in  other  countries,  and 
so  there  is  there  religious  toleration,  but  we  have  it  not. 

I  explained  a  factory  to  Stepan.  Calico  is  cheap,  be- 
cause they  do  not  take  into  consideration  the  people  that 
are  ruined  and  do  not  live  long.  If  they  did  not  take  into 
consideration  the  horses  that  are  ruined  at  post-stations, 
driving,  too,  would  be  cheap.  But  let  people  have  the  value 
of  horses  at  least,  and  you  wiU  see  what  an  ell  of  calico 
will  be  worth.  The  trouble  is,  people  give  their  lives 
cheaply,  not  according  to  their  values.  They  work  for 
fifteen  hours  and  leave  the  loom,  with  troubled  eyes,  like 
dazed  men,  —  and  so  every  day. 

Three  thousand  women,  getting  up  at  four  and  leaving 
work  at  eight  o'clock,  and  becoming  corrupt,  and  shorten- 
ing their  lives,  and  distorting  their  generation,  live  wretch- 
edly (amidst  temptations)  in  this  estabhshment,  in  order 
that  the  useless  calico  be  cheap  and  N.  N.  may  have 
money,  whereas  he  is  troubled  what  to  do  with  the  money 
which  he  already  has.  They  establish  a  management, 
improve  it.  For  what  ?  In  order  that  this  ruin  of  men 
and  ruin  in  different  forms  may  be  successfully  and  unin- 
terruptedly continued.     Wonderful. 


EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS     521 

Here  are  seven  counts  of  an  indictment  of  the  govern- 
ment: (1)  The  church  —  deceit,  superstition,  waste;  (2) 
the  army  —  debauchery,  cruelty,  waste  ;  (3)  punishments 
—  corruption,  cruelty,  infection ;  (4)  large  ownership  of 
land  —  hatred,  poverty,  cities;  (5)  factory  —  murder 
of  life ;  (6)  drunkenness ;  (7)  prostitution. 

Eead  Slyeptsdv's  Hard  Times.  Yes,  there  were  differ- 
ent demands  in  the  sixties.  And  because  with  these  de- 
mands was  connected  the  murder  of  the  first  of  March, 
people  have  imagined  that  these  demands  were  irregular. 
Indeed  not.     They  will  exist  until  they  are  fulfilled. 

The  positivists,  Hberals,  revolutionists,  and  all  so-called 
non-Christian  sects  believe  in  the  same  truth  of  Christ  in 
which  we  believe,  only  not  in  the  whole  truth,  and  under 
a  different  name ;  and  so  we  must  not  dispute  and  quarrel 
with  them,  but  make  friends  with  them. 

What  a  terrible  suffering  to  know  that  I  am  suffering 
and  losing  my  life,  not  from  an  avalanche,  not  from  bac- 
teria, but  through  people,  through  brothers,  who  ought  to 
love  and  who,  behold,  hate  me,  if  they  cause  me  suffering. 
That  was  when  they  led  the  Decembrists  to  execution, 
that  is  the  unfortunate  prisoners  in  K^ra,  and  so  forth. 
Terrible. 

One  of  the  most  impudent  cases  of  disobedience  to 
Christ  is  divine  service,  common  prayer  in  temples,  and 
calling  the  clergy  fathers,  whereas,  "  And  when  thou  pray- 
est,"  etc.  (Matt.  vi.  5-8  ;  xxiii.  8). 

The  anarchists  are  right  in  everything,  —  in  their  nega- 
tion of  the  existing  order  and  in  their  assertion  that  it 
will  not  be  worse  without  the  power  than,  with  the  exist- 
ing customs,  it  is  with  the  violence  of  the  power.     But 


522    p:xtracts  from  diaries  and  letters 

they  are  mistaken  in  thinking  that  anarchy  can  he  estah- 
hshed  by  means  of  revolution,  —  that  anarchy  can  be 
iustituted.  Anarchy  will  establish  itself;  but  this  will 
happen  because  a  greater  and  ever  greater  number  of 
people  will  not  need  the  defence  of  the  governmental 
power,  and  a  greater  and  ever  greater  number  of  people 
.  will  be  ashamed  to  apply  this  power. 

When  N.  was  a  baby,  he  used  to  go  to  bed  playing  and 
ask  the  nurse  to  continue  playing  while  he  was  sleeping. 
Just  so  the  Orthodox  people  ask  their  popes  to  pray  for 
them  while  they  are  asleep. 

The  good  doctrine  which  gets  into  the  church,  as  in  the 
case  of  Tikhon  Zadonski,  is  due  to  this,  that  in  the  net  of 
the  bad  doctrine,  which  is  intended  for  concealing  Christ's 
teaching  from  people,  there  are  found  good  men,  Christians 
in  spirit,  and  they,  without  rending  the  net,  introduce  as 
much  good  as  they  can  into  it. 

Thanks  to  the  censorship,  our  whole  literary  activity 
is  an  idle  occupation.  The  one  necessary  thing,  which 
justifies  the  occupation  with  it  (literature),  is  put  aside 
by  literature.  It  is  as  though  a  carpenter  were  permitted 
to  plane,  provided  he  made  no  shavings.  In  vain  do  the 
writers  imagine  that  they  are  deceiving  the  governmental 
censorship.  They  cannot  deceive  it,  as  you  could  not 
deceive  a  man  if  you  wanted  softly,  without  his  knowl- 
edge, to  put  a  mustard  plaster  on  him.  Let  it  begin  to 
act,  and  he  will  tear  it  off. 

The  governmental  form  is  now  a  survival  of  methods 
which  were  necessary  before,  but  now  are  superfluous ; 
just  as  goats  chmb  walls  and  poles,  an  act  which  used  to 
be  useful  to  them,  but  now  is  of  no  use  to  them. 


EXTKACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS     523 

All  life  is  irrational :  irrational  is  a  man's  useless  blind 
gut,  the  survival  of  the  horse's  fifth  toe,  and  all  the  super- 
fluities and  atavisms  of  everything  living  ;  irrational,  above 
all  else,  is  the  struggle  for  existence,  —  a  useless  waste 
of  energy. 

Man  introduces  reason  into  the  world  of  Nature,  des- 
troying irrational  struggle  and  waste.  But  this  activity 
is  outside  of  self,  distant,  only  reflected.  Man  sees  this 
irrationality  only  with  his  intellect. 

But  the  irrationality  of  his  own  life  he  not  only  sees 
with  his  intellect,  but  also  feels  with  his  heart,  as  con- 
trary to  love,  and  with  his  whole  being.  And  in  this 
rationalization  of  what  is  irrational  in  his  life  does  his 
life  consist. 

What  is  very  important  here  is  this,  that  the  irra- 
tionality in  Nature  is  cognized  w^ith  the  intellect,  while 
the  irrationality  in  human  life  itself  is  cognized  with  the 
heart  (through  love)  and  the  intellect. 

Man's  life  consists  in  rationalizing  what  is  irrational 
in  his  life.     And  so  two  things  are  necessary  for  it: 

(1)  To  see  the  irrationality  of  life  in  all  its  significance 
and  not  to  turn  one's  attention  away  from  it. 

(2)  To  recognize  in  all  purity  the  rationality  of  the 
possible  life. 

In  recognizing  the  whole  irrationality  of  life  and  the 
wretchedness,  which  always  results  from  it,  a  man  invol- 
untarily turns  away  from  it ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  in 
clearly  recognizing  the  rationality  of  a  possible  life,  a  man 
involuntarily  strives  toward  it.  Therefore,  not  to  conceal 
the  evil  of  the  irrationality  and  to  point  out  in  all  its 
clearness  the  good  of  the  rational  life  will  form  the  prob- 
lem of  all  the  teachers  of  humanity. 

But  here  Moses'  judgment-seat  is  always  occupied  by 
those  who  do  not  go  toward  the  light,  because  their  deeds 
are  evil ;  and  so  the  people  who  pose  as  teachers  not  only 
do  not  try  to  elucidate  the  irrationality  of  life  and  the 


524     EXTKACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS 

rationality  of  the  ideal,  but,  on  the  contrary,  conceal 
the  irrationality  of  life  and  undermine  the  confidence  in 
the  rationality  of  the  ideal. 

This  takes  place  in  our  life.  The  whole  activity  of 
the  men  of  the  world  consists  in  the  concealment  of  the 
irrationality  of  life ;  for  this  purpose  there  exist  and 
act: 

(1)  The  police,  (2)  the  army,  (3)  criminal  laws,  prisons, 
(4)  philanthropic  establishments :  homes  for  children  and 
for  old  people,  (5)  educational  homes,  (6)  houses  of  pros- 
titution, (7)  insane  asylums,  (8)  hospitals,  especially  for 
syphilitics  and  consumptives,  (9)  insurance  companies, 
(10)  fire  brigades,  (11)  all  compulsory  educational  insti- 
tutions, which  are  established  on  money  collected  by 
force,  (12)  institutions  for  minor  criminals,  agronomic 
institutions,  exhibitions,  and  many  other  institutions. 

If  one-thousandth  part  of  the  energy  employed  in  the 
establishment  of  all  this,  which  has  for  its  aim  the  con- 
cealment of  the  evil  and  which  only  increases  it  (it  is 
interesting  to  follow  out  how,  in  a  fatal  manner,  each  of 
these  institutions,  besides  concealing  the  evil,  begets  a 
new  evil  and  irrepressibly,  like  a  snowball,  increases,  that 
evil  which  it  proposes  to  destroy,  —  examine  the  educa- 
tional and  orphan  homes,  insane  asylums,  prisons,  army), 
were  used  for  counteracting  all  that  for  which  these  in- 
stitutions exist,  the  evil,  which  now  is  obvious  to  us  and 
which  torments  us,  would  be  quickly  destroyed. 

At  fairs  they  have  poles  to  be  climbed  for  prizes.  Such 
a  method  of  entertainment — at  times  to  entice  men  (to 
let  a  man  ruin  his  health),  or  a  walking  match  in  sacks, 
with  us  looking  on  —  could  have  arisen  only  with  a 
division  of  men  into  masters  and  slaves. 

All  the  forms  of  our  life  have  arranged  themselves  as 
they  have,  only  because  there  existed  this  division :  acro- 
bats, waiters,  privies,  the  production  of  mirrors,  visiting- 


EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS     525 

cards,  all  the  factories,  —  everything  could  have  arisen  as 
it  is,  only  because  there  was  that  division  into  masters 
and  slaves. 

And  we  want  brotherly  love,  having  retained  the 
slavish  forms  of  life. 

Twelve-year-old  ones  have  been  commanded  to  swear. 
Do  they  really  imagine  they  are  binding  these  children  ? 
Does  not  this  very  demand  show  obviously  their  guilt 
and  their  consciousness  of  it  ? 

They  want  to  retain  and  save  the  drowning  autocracy, 
and  they  send  Orthodoxy  out  to  its  aid.  But  the  autoc- 
racy will  drown  Orthodoxy  and  then  will  itself  go  down 
so  much  the  more  quickly. 

A  man  is  considered  disgraced,  if  he  has  been  beaten, 
if  he  is  accused  of  stealing,  of  fighting,  of  not  paying  his 
card  debts,  and  so  forth ;  but  how  if  he  has  signed  a  sen- 
tence of  death,  has  taken  part  in  an  execution,  has  read 
somebody  else's  letters,  has  put  people  in  prison  ? 

That  is  certainly  worse. 

People,  in  their  struggle  with  lies  and  superstitions, 
frequently  find  consolation  in  the  number  of  superstitions 
which  they  have  destroyed.  That  is  not  correct.  It  is 
impossible  to  find  consolation  until  everything  is  des- 
troyed which  contradicts  reason  and  demands  faith. 
Superstition  is  like  cancer,  —  everything  must  be  cleaned 
out,  if  an  operation  is  to  be  undertaken.  Leave  a  small 
particle,  and  everything  will  grow  out  again. 

When  you  chop  a  rough  block,  the  first  stroke  re- 
bounds as  from  steel,  and  you  think  that  you  are  not 
doing  anything,  and  that  it  is  in  vain  to  strike.  And  woe, 
if  you  lose  courage.     But  strike  again,  and  soon  you  will 


526     EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS 

hear  dull  sounds.  That  means,  that  it  has  moved.  A 
few  strokes  more,  and  the  block  will  be  chopped. 

In  such  a  situation  the  world  is  in  relation  to  the 
Christian  truth.  How  I  remember  the  time  when  the 
strokes  rebounded  and  I  thought  that  it  was  hopeless. 

The  same  is  true  of  people.  We  must  do  hke  the  man 
who  began  to  draw  the  water  out  of  the  oceto.  If  a 
man  gives  his  life  for  any  work,  no  matter  what  this  work 
may  be,  it  will  be  done,  and  much  more  so  God's  work. 

They  say  that  one  swallow  does  not  make  a  spring ;  but 
is  a  swallow,  because  one  does  not  make  a  spring,  to  wait, 
though  it  already  feels  the  spring  ?  If  so,  then  every 
bud  and  grass  blade  ought  to  wait,  and  there  will  be  no 
spring. 

There  came  to  me  a  series  of  thoughts  about  the  blind- 
ness of  the  men  who  are  struggling  against  the  anarchists 
by  means  of  destroying  the  anarchists,  and  not  by  means 
of  the  correction  of  that  order  of  life,  because  of  the  mon- 
strousness  of  which  the  anarchists  are  fighting. 

By  a  vast  and  all-round  labour  of  thought  and  speech 
the  comprehension  is  diffused  among  men,  is  acquired  by 
them  in  the  most  varied  forms,  and,  making  use  of  the 
strangest  of  means,  takes  possession  of  men,  —  one  from 
fashion,  one  from  boasting,  under  the  guise  of  the  liberal- 
ism of  science,  philosophy,  religion,  - —  and  becomes  proper 
to  men.  Men  believe  that  they  are  brothers,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  impress  brothers,  that  it  is  necessary  to  help 
progress  and  culture,  and  struggle  with  superstitions  ;  it 
becomes  public  opinion,  and  suddenly  —  the  terror  of  the 
French  Revolution,  the  First  of  March,  the  assassination 
of  Carnot,  —  and  all  the  labour  is  lost  for  nothing.  The 
water  which  is  carefully  collected  drop  by  drop  by  means 


EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS     527 

of    a  dam  goes  off  by  one  stroke  and  uselessly  washes 
away  tields  and  meadows. 

How  can  the  anarchist  help  seeing  the  harmfulness  of 
violence  ?  How  1  should  like  to  w^ite  to  them  about  it ! 
Everything  is  so,  everything  is  correct  which  they  discuss 
and  do,  in  spreading  the  ideas  about  the  uselessness  and 
harmfulness  of  the  governmental  violence.  Only  one 
thing  must  be  changed  by  tliem,  —  violence  and  murder 
by  a  non-participation  in  violence  and  murder. 

I  have  received  an  Italian  book  on  teaching  Christianity 
in  school. 

A  beautiful  idea  about  teaching  religion  being  violence, 
that  offence  against  the  children  of  which  Christ  spoke. 
AMiat  right  have  we  to  teach  what  is  disputed  by  the 
vast  majority,  —  the  Trinity,  the  miracles  of  Buddha, 
Mohammed,  Christ  ?  The  only  thing  we  can  and  must 
teach  is  the  moral  teaching. 

A  charming  expression  I  heard  from  N. 

We  were  speaking  of  the  impression  produced  on 
peasants  by  books.  It  is  hard  to  please  them,  because 
their  life  is  very  serious. 

That  is  a  superb  sentence.  If  only  a  large  number  of 
men  of  our  world  could  understand  it ! 

We  were  looking  at  an  exquisite  sundown.  In  the 
towering  clouds  a  rent,  and  there,  like  a  red,  irregular 
piece  of  coal,  the  sun.     All  that  near  the  forest.     A  joy. 

And  I  thought :  no,  this  world  is  no  jest,  not  merely 
a  dale  of  trials  and  a  transition  to  a  better,  an  eternal 
world ;  this  is  one  of  the  eternal  worlds,  which  is  beauti- 
ful and  joyous,  and  which  we  not  only  can,  but  must 
make  more  beautiful  and  more  joyous  for  those  who  live 
with  us  and  for  all  those  who  will  live  in  it  after  us. 


528     EXTRACTS    FROM   DIARIES   AND   LETTERS 

There  are  two  ways  for  cognizing  the  external  world : 
One  is  the  grossest  and  most  inevitable  method  of  cog- 
nizing by  means  of  the  five  senses.  From  this  method  of 
cognition  we  should  not  have  formed  that  idea  of  the 
world  which  we  know,  but  there  would  be  chaos,  which 
gives  us  various  sensations. 

■  The  other  method  consists  in  this,  that,  having  recog- 
nized ourselves  through  the  love  of  ourselves,  we  then 
recognize  the  other  beings  through  our  love  of  them :  we 
transfer  ourselves  in  thought  into  another  man,  animal, 
plant,  even  stone.  In  this  manner  you  cognize  externally, 
form  the  whole  world,  as  we  know  it. 

This  method  is  what  is  called  the  poetic  gift ;  and  this, 
too,  is  love.  It  is,  so  to  speak,  the  reestablishment  of  the 
violated  union  between  the  beings.  You  go  out  of  your- 
self and  enter  into  another.  And  you  can  enter  into 
everything.     All-unite  with  God,  with  everything. 

In  every  moral,  practical  prescription  there  is  a  possi- 
bility of  a  contradiction  between  this  prescription  and 
other  prescriptions,  which  result  from  the  same  foundation. 

Abstemiousness,  —  well,  shall  we  not  eat,  and  shall  we 
become  incapable  of  serving  men  ?  Not  to  kill  animals, 
—  shall  we  let  them  eat  us  up  ?  Not  to  drink  wine,  — 
shall  we  not  go  to  communion,  not  be  cured  with  wine  ? 
Not  to  resist  evil  with  evil,  —  well,  shall  we  allow  a  man 
to  kill  himself  and  others  ? 

The  discovery  of  these  contradictions  shows  only  that  a 
man  who  is  busy  with  it  wants  not  to  follow  the  moral  rule. 

It  is  all  the  same  story :  for  the  sake  of  one  man,  who 
has  to  take  wine  as  a  cure,  we  are  not  to  oppose  drunken- 
ness. For  the  sake  of  one  fictitious  violator  we  are  to 
kiU,  execute,  and  put  in  prison. 

The  death  of  children  from  the  common  point  of  view : 
Nature  tries  to    give  better    ones,  and,  seeing    that   the 


EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AXD    LETTERS     529 

world  is  not  yet  ready  for  them,  takes  them  hack.  But 
she  must  try,  in  order  to  be  able  to  go  ahead.  So  the 
swallows  who  return  too  early  freeze  to  death ;  but  they 
must  none  the  less  return. 

But  this  is  a  common,  bad  reflection.  A  rational  re- 
flection is  this,  that  he  (the  dead  child)  has  done  God's 
work,  —  the  establishment  of  the  kingdom  of  God  through 
the  increase  of  love,  —  more  than  many  who  have  lived 
half  a  century,  and  more. 

Love,  love  him  who  has  hurt  you,  whom  you  have 
condemned,  have  not  loved,  —  and  everything  which  con- 
cealed his  soul  from  you  will  disappear,  and  you  will,  as 
through  fresh  water,  see  at  the  bottom  the  divine  essence 
of  his  love,  and  you  will  not  have  to  forgive  him,  and  it 
will  be  impossible  for  you  to  do  so,  —  you  will  have  to 
forgive  yourself  only  for  not  having  loved  God  in  him  in 
whom  He  was,  and  for  not  having  seen  Him  on  account 
of  your  lack  of  love. 

People  who  have  not  risen  to  life  are  always  busy  with 
preparations  for  life,  but  there  is  no  life :  they  are  busy 
with  eating,  sleeping,  studying,  resting,  the  continuation 
of  the  race,  education.  One  thing  is  lacking,  —  life,  the 
growth  of  their  life. 

Yes,  our  business  is  like  that  of  a  nurse,  —  to  bring  up 
what  is  entrusted  to  us,  —  our  life. 

And  let  no  one  repeat  the  favourite  trite  remark  that 
to  bring  up  our  life  is  egoism. 

To  bring  up  our  life  is  to  serve  God.  Thou  shalt  love 
the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy 
soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind,  and  thy  neighbour  as  thy- 
seK. 

When  you  see  the  advantage  of  your  neighbour  and  do 
not  see  the  advantage  for  any  one  from  your  growth,  and 


530     EXTKACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS 

you  have  to  choose,  always  choose  the  growth  of  your 
life,  because  the  advantage  of  your  neighbour  is  always 
doubtful,  while  the  good  of  the  growth  of  your  life  is 
always  indubitable. 

Just  as  aimless  and  unknown  sufferings  seem  incompre- 
hensible and  receive  an  explanation  only  outside  of  condi- 
tions of  life  visible  to  us,  so  also  the  aimless,  to  our  view 
useless  good  and  the  unknown,  but  indubitable  growth  of 
our  growth  prove  to  us  that  our  life  is  not  limited  to 
visible  conditions.  In  this,  it  seems  to  me,  lies  the  so- 
lution of  that  impassioned,  insuperable  egoism  which 
forms  our  life.  I  can  love  only  myself,  but,  in  order 
not  to  suffer  from  the  love  of  self  I  must  find  and 
secrete  in  myself  what  is  worthy  of  love,  —  God.  Is 
it  not  for  that  reason  that  it  says :  Thou  shalt  love 
the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy 
mind? 

This,  people  will  say,  is  egoism.  And  the  good  of  men, 
they  will  say,  is  utilitarianism.  Either  is  incorrect ; 
either  is  true ;  and  one  proves  the  other.  Inside  himself 
a  man  will  find  a  meaning  only  in  the  growth  of  life. 
Outside  of  himself  he  will  find  only  what  estabhshes  the 
kingdom  of  God  upon  earth.  One  inevitably  coincides 
with  the  other.  Men,  according  to  their  strength,  are 
given  the  guidance  of  one  or  the  other :  both  lead  to  the 
same  goal. 

He  who  has  not  attained  the  consciousness  of  life  in 
growth  is  guided  by  what  contributes  to  the  good  of  men. 
Just  as  it  is  precisely  the  same  whether  a  figure  is 
painted  black  on  white,  or  whether  the  white  is  left  on 
the  black,  —  the  contours  will  be  the  same. 

It  is  not  a  metaphor  to  say  that  a  man  who  does  not 
bring  up  his  life  has  no  life.  Such  a  man  indeed  has  no 
life  as  there  is  no  life  in  a  tree  which  drops  its  old  bark, 
but  does  not  produce  a  new  one,  as  there  is  none  in  the 
animal  which  is  decomposing,  and  not  assimilating  food. 


EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS     531 

The  whole  carnal  life  of  the  organism,  with  its  food, 
growth,  continuation  of  race,  is  in  relation  to  the  true 
(growing)  life  nothing  but  a  destructive  process. 

You  write  that,  having  followed  my  advice  and  having, 
as  you  write,  busied  yourself  with  self-perfection,  you  felt 
that  you  were  subjecting  yourself  to  a  great  danger  of 
li\dng  your  life  egoistically  and,  therefore,  vainly,  and 
that  you  escaped  this  danger  by  having  ceased  to  care  for 
your  moral  perfection,  for  the  elucidation  of  your  con- 
sciousness of  the  truth,  and  for  the  establishment  of  your 
life  in  conformity  with  this  consciousness,  and  busied 
yourself  with  the  improvement,  enlightenment,  and  cor- 
rection of  others. 

I  think  that  the  danger  which  frightened  you  was 
merely  an  imaginary  one,  and  that,  by  continuing  to  elu- 
cidate this  consciousness  and  arranging  your  life  in  con- 
formity with  this  consciousness,  you  did  not  at  all  run 
the  risk  of  leading  an  idle  life,  which  would  be  useless  to 
others. 

I  think  the  very  reverse :  there  is  no  possibility  of 
enlightening  and  correcting  others,  without  having  en- 
lightened and  corrected  ourselves  to  the  utmost  limits ; 
indeed,  it  is  impossible  to  enlighten  and  correct  ourselves 
individually,  for  every  true  enHghtenment  and  correction 
of  ourselves  inevitably  enlightens  and  corrects  others,  and 
it  is  this  means  alone  which  actually  enlightens  and  cor- 
rects others,  just  as  the  burning  fire  cannot  light  up  and 
warm  only  the  object  which  is  consumed  in  it,  but  inevi- 
tably lights  up  and  warms  objects  about  itself,  but  only 
when  it  burns  itself. 

You  write :  "  Will  my  becoming  better  do  any  good  to 
my  brother  ? "  This  is  as  though  a  digger  should  say, 
"  Will  my  sharpening  the  spade  advance  my  work  ? " 
Nothing  but  the  sharpening  will  advance  it.  But  here 
the  comparison  is  not  complete:   the  enlightenment  and 


532     EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS 

correction  of  others,  as  I  said  before,  takes  place  only 
through  the  enlightenment  and  correction  of  oneself. 

I  do  not  say  that  what  you  are  doing,  staying  in  mili- 
tary service,  and  teaching  the  soldiers  the  rudiments,  etc., 
is  bad.  This  is  unquestionably  better  than  to  teach  sol- 
diers cruelty  and  lying,  and  to  beat  them.  But  what  is 
bad  for  you  is  this,  that,  knowing  the  evil  and  falseness 
of  military  service,  with  its  deceptions,  oath,  and  discipline, 
you  continue  to  serve.  And  what  is  bad  is  not  so  mucli 
the  fact  itself  that  you  are  serving,  as  your  reflections 
that,  though  continuing  to  serve,  you  are  doing  what  is 
right. 

I  understand  that  there  may  be  conditions  of  your 
relations  with  your  relatives,  of  your  past,  of  your  foibles, 
which  deprive  you  of  your  strength  to  do  what  you  con- 
sider to  be  right,  —  to  leave  military  service ;  from  weak- 
ness we  all  more  or  less  depart  from  that  ideal,  that 
truth,  which  we  know  ;  but  what  is  important  is  not  to 
distort  truth,  to  know  that  I  have  departed  from  it,  that 
I  am  sinful,  bad,  and  without  cessation  to  strive  for  it 
and  to  be  ready  at  any  moment,  as  soon  as  the  obstacles 
have  weakened,  to  walk  upon  its  path. 

A  man  moves  forward,  lives,  and  serves  men,  only 
when  he  knows  how  much  he  has  departed  from  truth, 
and  so  considers  himself  to  be  bad.  But  if  he  seeks  a 
justification  for  his  sin  and  is  satisfied  with  himself,  he  is 
dead.  But  one  must  not  be  satisfied  with  oneself,  while 
doing  military  service,  knowing  that  its  aim  is  execution 
and  murder,  its  means  servile  obedience  to  every  man 
higher  in  rank,  who  to-morrow  may  command  me  to  kill 
innocent  people,  and  its  conditions  —  not  only  idleness, 
but  also  a  useless  waste  of  the  nation's  best  forces  and 
the  deception  and  corruption  of  the  nation. 

How  often  have  I  been  surprised  and  pained  to  see 
that  what  is  so  clear  to  me  (and  not  simply  clear,  but 


EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS     533 

what  I  live  by),  uamely,  what  God's  will  consists  in  and 
its  fulfilment,  seems  to  others  obscure  and  doubtful.  I 
cannot  help  but  think,  as  I  look  at  the  workmen  in  the 
iron  foundry  on  the  Tula  road,  that  each  of  these  workmen 
is  given  a  definite  work,  which  he  must  do.  I  see  the 
same  in  the  whole  of  Nature :  every  plant,  every  animal, 
is  predestmed  for  some  work,  and  for  this  purpose  each 
of  them  is  given  corresponding  organs,  —  roots,  leaves, 
feelers,  smelhug,  and  so  forth.  I  see,  besides,  man  to 
whom,  in  addition  to  the  organs  which  are  given  to  an 
animal,  there  is  given  reason,  which  demands  of  him 
that  he  invest  all  his  acts  with  a  meaning.  This  reason 
has  to  be  satisfied  and  must  show  man  what  he  should 
do  in  conformity  with  this  reason.  Thus  men  have 
always  lived,  being  guided  by  their  reason.  To  live  while 
b^ing  guided  by  our  reason  means  to  hve  while  doing 
God's  will,  —  just  as  for  an  animal  to  live  while  being 
guided  by  its  organs  and  instincts  means  to  live  while 
doing   God's  will. 

They  retort  to  me  that  one  regards  as  God's  will  the 
flying  at  each  other's  throats,  another  —  the  eating  of 
Christ's  body  in  the  shape  of  little  bits  of  bread,  another 
—  the  certainty  that  he  was  saved  by  Christ's  blood,  — 
and  this  difference  in  the  comprehension  of  God's  will 
seems  to  trouble  men,  as  though  they  have  to  be  guided 
by  somebody  else's  reason,  and  not  by  their  own.  The 
question  is  not  as  to  what  Dragomirov  considers  God's 
will  to  consist  in  (besides,  it  is  uncertain  whether  Drago- 
mirov considers  God's  will  to  consist  in  flying  at  each 
other's  throats.  ...  It  is  possible  to  say  one  thing,  and 
in  reality  to  believe  in  something  else,  —  words  do  not 
prove  anything),  but  as  to  this,  what  I,  making  use  of  my 
reason,  regard  as  God's  will,  that  is,  what  meaning  I 
ascribe  to  my  existence  in  this  world  ? 

There  must  be  a  meaning,  just  as  there  must  be  a 
meaning  in  those  motions  which  a  workman  makes  in 


534     EXTEACTS   FROM   DIARIES   AND   LETTERS 

a  foundry.  The  whole  forward  motion  of  human  life 
consists  in  passing  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  comprehension 
of  life,  —  from  flying  at  the  throat  to  the  bits  of  bread, 
from  the  bits  of  bread  to  redemption,  from  redemption  to 
the  comprehension  of  the  Christian  moral  and  social 
teaching. 

In  this  do  I  understand  the  meaning  of  life  to  consist : 
in  the  establishment  of  the  kingdom  of  God  upon  earth, 
that  is,  in  substituting  a  loving  and  fraternal  cohabitation 
of  men  for  one  of  violence,  cruelty,  and  hatred.  The 
means  for  attaining  this  is  personal  perfection,  that  is, 
the  substitution  of  a  loving  ministration  to  others  for  our 
egoistical  tendencies,  as,  indeed,  it  says  in  the  Gospel, 
that  this  is  the  whole  law  and  the  prophets:  to  do  to 
others  as  we  would  that  others  should  do  to  us.  In  this 
do  I  see  the  meaning  of  life,  than  which  I  see  nothing 
higher,  and  I  do  not  always  live  in  the  name  of  this 
meaning,  but  frequently,  and  the  older  I  grow  the  more 
frequently,  I  accustom  myself  to  hve  in  the  name  of  it, 
and,  the  more  I  get  used  to  it,  the  more  joyous,  free, 
independent  of  everything  external  my  life  is,  and  the 
less  terrible  is  life  to  me.  ... 

Every  man  arrives  at  the  truth  in  his  own  way ;  but 
I  can  say  this  much :  what  I  write  is  not  words,  but  I 
live  by  it,  am  happy  in  it,  and  shall  die  with  it. 


OF   THE   CONSCIOUSNESS    OF   THE   SPIKITUAL    PEINCIPLE 

(1)  Life  is  the  consciousness  of  the  invariable  spiritual 
principle  as  manifested  within  the  limits  which  demarcate 
this  principle  from  everything  else. 

(2)  The  limits  of  this  principle  as  demarcated  from 
everything  else  present  themselves  to  man  as  his  moving 
body  and  as  that  of  other  beings. 

(3)  Separateness,  non-confluence,  impermeability  of  one 


EXTKACTS  FROM  DIARIES  AND  LETTERS  535 

being  by  another  can  present  itself  only  as  matter  moving 
independently  of  the  motion  of  other  beings. 

(4)  And  as  corporeality  and  space,  so  also  motion  and 
time  are  only  conditions  of  the  possibility  of  representing 
the  separateness  of  our  spiritual  being  from  all  the  rest, 
that  is,  from  the  unlimited,  non-corporeal,  non-spatial 
and  non-moving,  non-temporal  spiritual  being. 

(5)  And  so  our  Hfe  presents  itself  to  us  as  the  life  of 
the  spatial  body  moving  in  time. 

(6)  It  appears  to  us  that  our  body,  forming  one  part 
of  the  corporeal  world,  unlimited  in  space,  originating 
from  parents,  ancestors,  who  lived  before  us  in  infinite 
time,  receives  its  beginning  in  the  mother's  womb,  is 
born,  grows,  develops,  then  weakens,  dries  up,  and  dies, 
that  is,  loses  its  former  corporeality,  passing  into  another, 
stops  moving,  and  —  dies. 

(7)  In  reality  our  true  life  is  formed  only  by  the  con- 
sciousness of  that  spiritual  being  which  is  separated  from 
all  the  rest  and  is  included  within  the  limits  of  body 
and  motion. 

(8)  This  spiritual  being  is  always  equal  to  itself  and  is 
subject  to  no  changes ;  but  to  us  it  seems  that  it  grows 
and  expands  in  time,  that  is,  moves.  But  what  moves 
is  the  limits  in  which  the  spiritual  beings  are.  This  seems 
so  to  us,  just  as  it  seems  to  us  that  the  moon  is  moving, 
when  the  clouds  pass  over  it. 

(9)  Life  is  life,  only  when  consciousness  is  manifested, 
—  when  consciousness  comes  out  from  its  limits.  It 
always  exists.  Those  intervals  of  the  apparent  absence 
of  consciousness  seem  to  us  so  only  when  we  look  at  the 
motion  of  the  limits  of  consciousness  in  other  beings. 
But  when  we  look  within  ourselves,  we  know  that  con- 
sciousness is  one  and  unchangeable,  that  it  does  not  begin 
nor  end. 

(10)  Life  at  first  appears  to  man  as  materially  spatial 
and  moving,  temporal.     Man  recognizes  at  first  as  his  life 


536     EXTRACTS   FROM   DIARIES    AND   LETTERS 

those  limits  which  to  him  appear  as  moving  matter,  which 
separate  him  from  everything,  and  assumes  that  his  Hfe 
is  materially  spatial  and  automatically  temporal,  and  in 
the  motion  of  this  matter  in  time  he  sees  life.  In  the 
interruption  of  the  motion  of  this  matter  he  sees  the  ces- 
sation of  his  life. 

(11)  In  this  conviction  man  is  supported  by  his  obser- 
vation of  other  men,  who  constantly  present  themselves 
to  him  as  material  in  space  and  moving  in  time.  The 
observation  of  the  continuity  of  the  motion  of  matter  in 
other  beings  causes  a  man  to  think  that  his  life,  too,  is 
uninterruptedly  moving  in  time,  though  inwardly  he  not 
only  does  not  experience  this  uninterruptedness  of  motion, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  experiences  a  motionless  conscious- 
ness, always  equal  to  itself,  which  only  for  external 
observation  is  divided  by  intervals  of  sleep,  insanity, 
passions,  —  but  in  reality  is  all  one. 

(12)  Thus  people  ascribe  two  different  meanings  to 
"  life."  One  meaning  is  the  concept  of  matter  in  motion, 
separate  from  everything  else,  which  by  man  is  cognized 
as  self,  and  the  second,  —  a  motionless  spiritual  being, 
always  equal  to  itself,  which  man  recognizes  as  self., 

(13)  These  concepts  seem  to  be  different,  but  in  reality 
they  are  not  two  concepts,  but  one :  the  concept  of  cog- 
nizing oneself  as  a  spiritual  being  enclosed  within  limits. 
The  recognition  of  the  spatial  and  temporal  existence 
of  the  separate  being  as  life  is  only  the  result  of 
insufiBcient  thinking.  The  recognition  of  oneself  as  a 
being  separate  from  everything  else  is  possible  only  for 
a  spiritual  being.  And  so  life  is  always  the  life  of  the 
spiritual  being.  But  the  spiritual  being  can  be  neither 
spatial  nor  temporal. 

(14)  And  so  the  recognition  of  the  material  temporal 
existence  as  all  life  is  an  error  of  thought,  a  recognition 
of  the  part  for  the  whole,  of  the  consequences  for  the 
cause,  —  is  just  such  an  error  of  thought  as  the  recognition 


EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS     637 

of  the  falling  stream  of  water,  and  not  of  the  river,  as  the 
force  which  moves  the  mill-wheel. 

(15)  The  distinction  between  the  recognition  of  the 
spiritual  unchangeable  principle,  and  not  its  manifestation 
within  those  limits  in  which  it  is  manifested,  as  life  has 
always  been  made  by  all  the  religious  teachers.  On  this 
elucidation  of  the  difference  between  the  two  concepts  of 
life  is  based  the  Gospel  teaching  about  the  true  life,  — 
the  life  of  the  spirit  and  the  false  life,  —  the  carnal,  the 
temporal  life. 

(16)  This  elucidation  is  very  important,  because  from 
the  consciousness  that  the  true  life  is  contained  only  in 
the  spiritual  being  results  all  that  which  is  called  virtue 
and  which  gives  the  highest  good  to  men.  From  this 
consciousness  results  that  which  forms  the  foundation  of 
all  the  virtues,  —  results  love,  that  is,  the  recognition  of 
the  hfe  of  all  the  beings  of  the  world  through  oneself. 

(17)  From  this  same  cognition,  which  is  nothing  but 
what  we  call  conscience,  results  continence,  fearlessness, 
self-renunciation,  because  only  with  continence,  fearless- 
ness, self-renunciation,  is  possible  the  fulfilment  of  the 
fundamental  demand  of  consciousness,  —  the  recognition 
of  other  beings  through  oneself,  that  is,  love. 

(18)  A  man  who  has  recognized  his  life  is  (I  believe 
Pascal  said  so)  like  a  slave  who  suddenly  discovers  that 
he  is  a  king. 

The  strength  of  the  governments  is  in  this,  that  in  their 
hands  is  the  self-feeding  circle  of  power:  the  false  doc- 
trine produces  power,  and  power  gives  the  possibility  of 
disseminating  nothing  but  the  false  teaching,  removing 
everything  which  is  contrary  to  it,  which  arraigns  it. 

No  matter  how  the  guard  and  the  army  may  be  bribed 
and  stultified,  they  now  none  the  less  consist  of  the  same 
men  whom  this  very  guard  oppresses  and  compels  to  do 


538     EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS 

evil.  Besides,  there  are  not  many  in  this  guard.  They 
form  a  hundredth,  at  the  most  a  fiftieth,  of  the  whole 
nation  ;  but  it  is  also  the  nation  now.  And  so  the  power 
of  the  governments  is  now  no  longer  based  on  force,  as 
was  the  case  formerly,  but  on  deceit. 

Men  with  a  calm  conscience,  as  it  were,  not  only  at  the 
request  of  the  authorities  become  policemen,  collectors  of 
taxes,  and  soldiers,  but  of  their  own  free  will  become 
policemen,  examining  magistrates,  prosecutors,  soldiers, 
generals,  ministers,  kings,  and,  as  it  were,  with  a  calm 
conscience,  —  at  least  with  external  complete  self-con- 
fidence, —  busy  themselves  with  taking  away  from  people 
their  last  cow  for  taxes,  which  will  be  used  for  luxury 
and  murder;  or  they  put  men  into  prisons,  and  tor- 
ment and  execute  them ;  or  invent  and  prepare  means 
of  murder ;  and  amidst  poor  people  own  property  and 
lands  taken  from  them,  and  seem  to  be  proud  of  this. 

The  so-called  educated  people,  —  those  who  ought  to 
give  an  example  of  that  relation  to  violence  which  is 
proper  to  a  rational  being,  —  the  learned,  liberal,  revolu- 
tionary men  even,  discuss,  condemn,  preach  liberty,  the 
dignity  of  man.  But  that  is  so  only  so  long  as  these 
educated  people  are  not  whistled  for  to  go  under  the 
yoke ;  and  then  all  discussions  and  all  liberalism  and  all 
talks  about  liberty  come  to  an  end ;  and  he  is  dressed  up 
in  a  gaudy  livery,  is  given  a  gun  or  a  sword  in  his  hands, 
and  a  sergeant  commands  him  to  run,  and  jump,  and 
stand  still,  and  whirl  around,  and  put  on  his  cap, 
and  bow,  and  shout  hurrah  at  the  sight  of  the  Tsar,  and, 
above  all,  be  prepared,  at  the  command  of  this  sergeant,  to 
kill  his  own  father,  and  he,  —  a  liberal,  a  learned  man,  — 
according  to  the  law  of  evolution,  —  jumps  and  bows  to 
whom  he  is  commanded  to  bow,  and  shouts  hurrah,  and 
is  prepared  to  kill  whomever  he  is  commanded  to  kill. 


EXTRACTS    FKOM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS     539 

Thus  the  same  people,  the  cultured,  for  whom  it 
would  be  most  natural  to  strive  to  bring  life  into  liar- 
mouy  with  their  consciousness,  are  mainly  busy  confusing 
and  contorting  this  consciousness. 

It  is  obvious  to  them  that  it  is  absolutely  unnecessary 
to  discuss  the  question  of  resisting  evil  and  of  how  it  is 
decided  by  Christianity.  All  that  is  mysticism.  It 
is  necessary  to  do  all  this,  that  is,  to  be  a  submissive 
slave  of  slaves. 

For  an  unawakened  man  the  governmental  power  is 
certain  sacred  institutions  forming  the  organs  of  a  live 
body,  an  indispensable  condition  of  the  life  of  men. 
For  an  awakened  man  it  is  badly  erring  men,  who  ascribe 
to  themselves  a  certain  fantastic  significance,  which  has 
no  rational  justification  whatever,  and  who,  by  means  of 
violence,  execute  their  wishes.  Senates,  synods,  courts, 
the  administration,  —  all  that  is  for  an  awakened  man 
erring  and  for  the  most  part  bribed  men,  who  do  violence 
to  other  men,  just  such  men  as  those  robbers  who  seize 
men  on  the  highways  and  do  violence  to  them.  The 
antiquity  of  this  violence,  the  dimensions  of  the  violence, 
its  organization,  cannot  alter  the  essence  of  the  thing. 

For  an  awakened  man  there  is  not  what  is  called  gov- 
ernment :  and  so  there  are  no  justifications  for  all  the  acts 
of  violence  committed  in  the  name  of  the  government; 
and  so  there  can  be  for  him  no  participation  in  them. 

Governmental  violence  will  not  be  destroyed  by  exter- 
nal means,  but  only  by  the  consciousness  of  men  awak- 
ened to  the  truth. 

Suffering  from  sickness  and  interference  with  occupa- 
tions, which  we  experience  from  sickness,  are  not  due  to 
sickness,  but  to  our  relation  to  death. 

If  we  recognize  that  death  is  a  necessary  end  of  our 
carnal  existence,  and  that  in  this  imminent  end,  as  also 


540     EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS 

in  the  continuation  of  this  life,  there  is  nothing,  either 
bad  or  good,  the  sufferings  will  cease  being  painful  and 
will  not  interfere  with  life. 

If  a  man  did  not  in  the  least  doubt  the  indestructi- 
bility of  his  life  after  death,  all  diseases  would  present 
themselves  to  him  only  as  conditions  of  a  transition  from 
one  form  of  life  to  another,  —  a  form  rather  desirable  than 
otherwise,  —  and  then  he  would  bear  the  pain  caused  by 
disease  in  the  same  way  as  we  bear  pain  caused  by  tense 
labour,  which  we  know  will  end  in  something  good.  And 
there  would  be  no  suffering  and  no  consciousness  of  an 
interruption  of  activity,  for  during  the  pain  we  should 
have  a  definite  activity  —  that  of  preparing  ourselves  for 
the  new  state. 

We  are  all  able,  though  only  in  part,  to  experience  that 
this  is  so. 

But  how  can  it  help  but  be  terrible  for  people  to  suffer, 
when  their  whole  hfe  consists  in  attempts  at  realizing  their 
wishes  in  this  world  in  the  future,  in  the  constant  desire 
that  the  future  may  come  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  when 
they  none  the  less  know  that  at  the  end  of  this  future 
stands  that  of  which  they  are  so  afraid  that  they  dare  not 
even  think  of  it,  —  death  ?  How  can  they  help  but  suffer, 
since  they  are  constantly  in  this  inner  contradiction,  when 
a  disease  comes  which,  like  all  diseases,  brings  death  with 
it? 

From  this  arises  the  painfulness  of  the  sufferings. 
From  this  also  comes  what  we  call  the  cessation  of  all 
life  from  disease. 

Oh,  if  we  did  not  for  a  moment  forget  death,  into  which 
we  may  slip  any  minute !  If  we  only  remembered  that 
we  are  not  standing  on  a  level  plane  (if  we  think  that  we 
are,  then  it  only  appears  that  he  who  has  gone  has  disap- 
peared suddenly,  and  we  are  afraid  that  we,  too,  shall  dis- 
appear suddenly),  but  are  sliding,  constantly  colliding, 


EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS     541 

overtaking,  and  being  overtaken,  down  there,  behind  the 
curtain,  which  conceals  from  us  those  who  go  away  from 
us  and  will  conceal  us  from  the  rest ! 

If  we  always  remember  this,  it  is  so  easy  and  so  joyous 
to  live  and  slide  together  down  that  incline,  in  the  power 
of  that  God,  in  whose  power  we  have  been  and  will  be 
later  and  for  ever. 

Frequently  I  think  well,  but  I  think  without  death,  — 
and  this  is  a  frivolous  and  empty  thought.  Frequently 
I  live  well,  but  I  live  without  the  expectation  of  death,  — 
and  this  is  a  frivolous  and  empty  life. 

Life  is  the  talent  given  me  for  increase.  It  is  possible 
to  think  and  live  with  death  only  when  we  remember 
that  our  one  business  is  not  to  write  something,  to  aid 
some  one,  to  do  something  outside  of  ourselves,  but  only 
to  increase  our  life,  in  order  to  give  it  back  to  the  Master, 
when  He  takes  it,  better,  larger,  than  when  it  was  given 
to  me. 

This  is  strange  only  when  the  increase  of  life  may  be 
imagined  outside  of  love  of  men  and,  therefore,  outside  of 
serving  them.  But  increase  and  serving  are  one  and  the 
same,  except  that  they  are  viewed  from  different  sides. 

I  know  that  you  have  that  which  supports  you  in  your 
grievous  moments  of  life,  —  faith  in  eternal  life,  a  tiny 
part  of  which  is  formed  by  this  life,  which  is  of  impor- 
tance only,  in  order  that  we  may  not  be  false  to  what  we 
recognize  to  be  God's  will.  I  know  this,  but  I  know  also 
that  it  is  impossible  for  us  always  to  maintain  ourselves 
in  the  spirit  in  which  we  see  and  remember  only  God  and 
His  law ;  I  know  that  after  a  spiritual  exaltation  there 
are  falls.  In  these  minutes  of  spiritual  fall  I  would  like 
to  be  with  you,  to  suffer  together  with  you  and  rise  with 
you  and  help  one  another. 

In  grievous  moments  I  am  always  mindful  of  Christ's 


54U     EXTKACTS    FKOM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS 

words,  "  Have  I  not  come  for  this  hour  ? "  And  these 
words  always  support  me,  if  I  happen  to  think  of  them 
in  time.  Grievous  minutes  must  be  dear  to  us,  because, 
to  live  through  them  properly,  we  have  lived  and  gathered 
strength  during  all  our  preceding  life.  "  He  that  suffereth 
unto  the  end  shall  be  saved." 

What  has  always  helped  me  very  much  is  the  thought 
that  what  is  hard  for  me  is  the  very  step  which  I  have 
reached  and  on  which  I  have  put  my  foot,  in  order  to  rise 
higher. 

Thank  God,  I  live  well,  that  is,  better  than  before : 
there  is  more  concord  and  love  of  men  and  more  obedi- 
ence to  God's  will.  Lack  of  love  is  due  to  nothing  but 
disobedience. 

I  carefully  read  both  your  letters  twice  and  understand 
everything  separately,  but  fail  to  comprehend  the  general 
spirit  of  the  whole,  —  I  do  not  understand  the  motive  of 
your  dissatisfaction.  You  say  :  "  Union,  but  union  is  pos- 
sible only  in  the  truth."  To  find  union  with  men,  it  is 
not  necessary  to  go  to  meet  men,  but  for  all  to  go  toward 
God  or  truth.  Only  there  is  union,  and  not  with  those 
with  whom  I  want  or  propose  to  have  a  union,  but  with 
those  who  arrived  there  whither  I  myself  went. 

I  represent  to  myself  the  world  as  an  enormous  temple, 
in  which  the  Hght  falls  from  above,  in  the  very  middle. 
For  us  to  meet,  we  must  all  go  toward  this  light,  and, 
arriving  from  all  sides,  we  shall  meet  there  with  entirely 
unexpected  people.     And  this  is  joy. 

It  is  this  union  that  we  ought  to  search  for,  and  we 
ought  to  search  for  it  with  these  means,  and  it  is  impos- 
sible for  us  to  help  one  another.  What  you  say  about  the 
necessity  of  the  form  of  life  is  quite  true,  but  it  is  not 
enough  to  say  "  necessity,"  —  it  is  necessary  to  say  '•'  the 


EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS     543 

inevitableness  "  of  the  form.  If  one  lives  separately,  or 
people  live  together  materially,  or  only  spiritually  (as  I 
understand  that  I  am  living  with  all  and  you  with  the 
rest),  there  certainly  is  a  form  of  this  life.  And  it  is 
very  inconvenient  and  even  harmful  to  look  at  this  form, 
to  define  it.  Let  others  look  at  the  form  and  define  the 
form  in  which  I  live,  but  I  have  to  live. 

Again  you  do  not  say  well  that,  when  a  beggar  comes, 
there  is  no  time  to  inquire  whether  love  is  increased,  and 
so  forth.  You  know  that  I  did  not  say  so  for  that  pur- 
pose, but  in  order,  if  there  is  any  doubt  in  one's  activity, 
to  apply  this  measure  to  such  an  activity.  And  so  I  will 
say,  taking  your  own  example,  that  if  a  pail  is  filled  with 
annoyance,  or  he  whose  pail  is  being  filled  does  not  expect 
a  pail,  but  a  small  measure,  and  receives  it  with  annoy- 
ance, such  an  activity  is  not  correct. 

I  cannot  understand  why  you  are  dissatisfied  with 
yourself  and  with  others,  and  what  you  want.  It  seems 
to  me  that  there  ought  to  be  dissatisfaction  with  oneself, 
—  not  with  others,  and  I  frequently  console  myself  with 
the  fact  that  I  am  constantly  dissatisfied  with  myself,  — 
since  I  am  not  yet  entirely  lost ;  but  I  know  what  I  am 
dissatisfied  with,  —  with  my  definite  abominations,  from 
which  I  cannot  be  liberated  by  anybody's  aid,  and  the 
work  over  which  forms  my  hfe.  I  do  not  trouble  myself, 
however,  about  the  circle  in  which  I  live,  about  my  ex- 
ternal conditions  of  life,  because  I  know  by  experience 
that  this  or  that  circle,  these  or  those  conditions,  result 
from  my  greater  or  lesser  nearness  to  Christ,  to  truth.  I 
live  as  I  do,  not  because  a  ray  of  light  reached  me  under 
grievous  circumstances  (as  I  used  to  think),  but  because 
I  am  bad.  In  proportion  as  I  shall  be  and  am  better,  the 
circle,  too,  and  the  external  conditions  are  better.  If  I 
were  a  saint,  and  the  circle  and  the  external  conditions 
were  ideal,  I  should  be  living  as  I  present  to  myself  the 
life  of  a  disciple  of  Christ,  —  a  beggar,  a  vagabond,  a 


544     EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS 

servant  of  all  men,  —  and  I  still  do  not  despair  to  attain 
this,  because  it  is  all  in  my  power.  It  is  also  impossible 
to  become  better,  to  stand  nearer  to  truth  in  consequence 
of  external  conditions,  just  as  it  is  impossible  to  sit  astride 
a  stick  and  raise  oneself  by  grasping  the  stick.  The  ex- 
ternal conditions,  the  form  of  life,  "Union,  —  all  that  is  the 
result  of  an  inner  perfection,  —  an  approach  to  Christ: 
"  Seek  ye  the  kingdom  of  God  which  is  within  you,  and 
His  righteousness,  and  all  these  things  shall  be  added 
unto  you."  Maybe  I  am  mistaken  and  reply  to  what 
you  did  not  ask.  If  so,  forgive  me.  I  wrote  loving, 
thinking  of  you,  and  wishing,  if  possible,  to  be  useful  to 
you. 

.  .  .  The  difficulty,  which  you  met  with  in  the  answer 
of  the  young  man  who  would  hke  to  follow  the  dictates 
of  his  conscience  and  at  the  same  time  feels  the  impossi- 
bility of  forsaking  and  grieving  his  mother,  is  one  I  know, 
and  I  have  several  times  had  occasion  to  reply  to  it. 

Christ's  teaching  is  not  a  doctrine  which  demands  cer- 
tain acts,  —  it  does  not  demand  anything  of  those  who 
want  to  follow  it.  It  consists,  as  the  word  "Gospel" 
(the  announcement  of  the  good)  indicates,  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  man's  true  good.  The  moment  a  man  has  come  to 
understand  and  is  permeated  with  the  consciousness  that 
his  true  good,  the  good  of  his  eternal,  that  is,  his  true, 
life,  the  one  which  is  not  limited  to  this  world,  consists 
in  the  doing  of  God's  will,  and  that  to  commit  murder 
and  prepare  oneself  for  murder  —  as  do  those  who  become 
military  men  —  is  contrary  to  this  will,  no  consideration 
can  compel  this  man  to  act  contrary  to  his  true  good.  If 
there  is  an  internal  struggle,  and  if,  as  in  the  case  of 
which  you  speak,  family  considerations  are  uppermost, 
this  serves  as  a  proof  that  Christ's  true  teachmg  is  not 
understood  by  him  who  is  unable  to  follow  it.  This  only 
proves  that  he  would  like  to  appear  a  Christian,  but  is 


EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS     545 

not  such  in  reality.  And  so  I  fiud  it  useless  and  fre- 
quently even  harmful  to  preach  certain  acts  or  abstinence 
from  acts,  like  the  refusal  to  do  military  service,  and  so 
forth.  All  the  acts  should  arise,  not  from  a  desire  to 
follow  certain  rules,  but  from  a  complete  impossibility 
of  acting  differently.  And  so,  when  I  lind  myself  in  a 
situation  such  as  the  one  is  in  which  you  found  yourself 
before  this  young  man,  I  always  advise  people  to  do 
everything  that  is  demanded  of  them,  —  to  enter  military 
service,  serve,  swear,  and  so  forth,  —  if  only  this  is  morally 
possible  for  them  to  do ;  not  to  abstain  from  anything, 
unless  this  becomes  morally  as  impossible  as  it  is  impos- 
sible for  a  man  to  lift  up  a  mountain  or  rise  in  the  air. 
I  always  tell  them :  "  If  you  want  to  refuse  to  do  mili- 
tary service  and  to  bear  all  the  consequences  of  this 
refusal,  try  to  attain  that  degree  of  certainty  and  lucid- 
ity when  it  shall  be  as  impossible  for  you  to  take  an  oath 
and  go  through  the  manual  of  arms  as  it  is  now  for  you 
to  strangle  a  child  or  do  something  hke  it.  But  if  that 
is  possible  for  you  to  do,  do  it,  because  it  is  better  that 
there  should  be  one  more  soldier  than  one  more  hypocrite 
or  apostate  from  the  teaching,  as  happens  with  those  who 
undertake  things  that  are  above  their  strength.  This  is 
why  I  am  convinced  that  the  Christian  truth  cannot  be 
disseminated  by  the  preaching  of  certain  external  acts,  as 
is  done  in  the  pseudo-Christian  religions,  but  only  through 
the  destruction  and  dethronement  of  the  offences,  and 
especially  through  the  conviction  that  man's  one  true 
good  is  contained  in  the  doing  of  God's  will,  in  which 
lies  man's  law  and  destiny. 

At  the  moment  of  my  writing  two  young  men  of  my 
friends  are  locked  up  —  one  in  prison,  the  other  in  an 
insane  asylum  —  for  having  refused  to  do  military  serv- 
ice. One  of  these  is  a  young  Moscow  artist.  I  am  try- 
ing to  influence  him  as  little  as  possible  in  his  refusal, 
because  I  know  that,  to  bear  all  the  trials  which  await 


546     EXTRACTS    FROM    DIARIES    AND    LETTERS 

him,  he  needs  strength,  which  cannot  come  from  with- 
out; he  needs  the  firm  conviction  that  his  Hfe  has  no 
other  meaning  than  that  which  consists  in  doing  the 
will  of  Him  who  sent  him  here,  but  this  conviction  is 
formed  within.  I  can  help  its  formation,  but  I  cannot 
give  it :  more  than  anything  else  I  am  afraid  of  making 
him  believe  that  he  has  this  conviction,  when  he  does  not 
have  it.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  The  idea  of  a  military  strike  has  already  been 
announced  at  the  last  socialistic  congress  but  one,  by  one 
of  your  countrymen,  whom  I  respect  very  much,  though 
I  have  forgotten  his  name  (Domela,  I  think).  When  you 
write  again,  let  me  have  the  pleasure  of  hearing  some- 
thing about  this  socialist,  who  is  so  remarkable  for  his 
activity.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  The  most  remarkable  thing  about  this  movement 
is  this,  that  the  masses  are  on  the  side  of  the  students,  or, 
rather,  on  the  side  of  the  expression  of  dissatisfaction. 

Working  people  and  students  come  to  me  and  write  to 
me,  and  I  tell  them  all :  For  the  good  of  men  we  need  first 
their  union  among  themselves,  and  so,  the  more  commun- 
ion, the  more  mutual  sympathy  there  is,  the  better.  But 
we  must  unite  not  in  the  name  of  hostility,  but  in  the 
name  of  mutual  love ;  if  this  union  seems  dangerous  and 
harmful  to  some  people,  so  much  the  worse  for  them.  We 
invite  them  to  this  communion.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  There  is  one  thing  I  may  say  in  my  name,  and 
that  is,  that  making  Eussian  people  —  policemen,  Cos- 
sacks, and  soldiers  —  so  bestial  that  they  commit  acts 
which  are  contrary  even  to  their  nature  and  their  relig- 
ious beliefs,  is  very  important,  and  we  cannot  look  too 
seriously  upon  it:  we  must  try  to  investigate,  promul- 
gate, and  understand  its  causes. 


THE   DEMANDS   OF   LOVE 

(From  a  diary) 

Imagine  some  people,  for  completeness'  sake,  a  man 
and  a  woman  —  husband  and  wife,  brother  and  sister, 
father  and  daughter,  mother  and  son  —  of  the  wealthy 
classes,  who  have  come  to  a  vivid  reahzation  of  the  sin- 
fulness of  their  life  of  luxury  and  idleness  amidst  the 
poverty  of  the  masses  that  are  crushed  by  labour,  and 
who  have  left  the  city,  have  given  away  their  sur- 
plus, or  in  one  way  or  another  have  rid  themselves 
of  it,  have  left  for  themselves,  say,  150  paper  roubles 
per  year,  or  have  even  not  left  anything  for  them- 
selves, but  earn  the  amount  by  some  labour,  —  let  us  say, 
by  painting  on  china,  translating  good  books,  —  and  live 
in  the  country,  in  the  centre  of  a  Eussian  village,  having 
rented  or  bought  a  hut,  working  their  garden  with  their 
own  hands,  attending  to  bees,  and  at  the  same  time  giving 
aid  to  the  villagers,  —  medical,  as  much  as  they  know  of 
it,  and  educational,  by  teaching  the  children,  writing 
letters  and  petitions,  and  so  forth. 

It  would  seem  there  cannot  be  anything  better  than 
such  a  life.  But  this  life  will  be  or  become  a  hell,  if 
these  people  are  not  going  to  dissemble  and  lie,  if  they 
are  going  to  be  sincere.  If  these  people  have  renounced 
all  advantages  and  joys,  all  the  adornments  of  life,  which 
city  and  money  gave  them,  they  did  so  only  because  they 
recognize  men  to  be  their  equal  brothers  in  the  sight  of 
God,  —  not  equal  in  abilities  and  worth,  if  you  so  wish, 

647 


548  THE    DEMANDS    OF    LOVE 

but  equal  in  their  rights  to  life  and  to  everything  which 
it  can  give  them. 

If  there  can  be  any  doubt  as  to  the  equality  of  men, 
when  we  view  them  as  adults  with  a  separate  past  for 
every  one,  there  can  be  no  such  doubt  when  we  see  them 
as  children.  Why  will  this  child  have  all  the  care,  all 
the  aid  of  knowledge  for  his  physical  and  mental  devel- 
opment, while  that  charming  boy  with  the  same  or  even 
better  promise  will  become  a  rachitic,  degenerate  half- 
cripple,  for  the  want  of  milk,  and  will  remain  an  ignorant, 
savage  man,  fettered  by  superstitions,  —  nothing  but  a 
coarse  labouring  force  ? 

If  these  people  have  left  the  city  and  have  settled  in 
the  country,  as  they  have,  they  have  done  so  only  be- 
cause they  beheve  in  the  brotherhood  of  men,  not  only  in 
words,  but  also  in  fact,  and  wish,  if  not  to  realize  it  in 
their  lives,  at  least  to  work  for  its  realization.  And  this 
attempt  at  its  realization  must,  if  it  is  sincere,  lead  them 
to  a  terrible,  hopeless  situation. 

With  their  habits  of  order,  comfort,  and  chiefly  cleanli- 
ness, acquired  in  childhood,  they  came  to  the  country, 
where  they  hired  or  bought  a  hut,  cleaned  it  of  vermin, 
perhaps  themselves  papered  it,  brought  a  remnant  of  their 
furniture,  not  luxurious,  but  necessary  furniture,  —  an 
iron  bed,  a  safe,  a  small  writing-desk.  And  there  they 
are  living.  At  first  the  peasants  feel  shy  in  their  pres- 
ence :  they  expect  that  they,  like  all  rich  people,  will  by 
means  of  violence  defend  their  property,  and  so  do  not 
approach  them  with  requests  and  demands.  But  slowly 
the  mood  of  the  new  inhabitants  is  becoming  clear :  they 
themselves  offer  their  services  gratis,  and  the  boldest  and 
most  forward  of  the  peasants  find  out  through  experience 
that  these  new  people  do  not  refuse  anything  and  that 
it  is  possible  to  get  things  out  of  them. 

And  they  begin  to  put  forth  all  kinds  of  demands,  and 
these  demands  keep  growing  and  growing. 


THE   DEMANDS    OF   LOYE  549 

There  begins  something  like  the  pouring  out  and  level- 
ling of  a  heaping  mass  of  gi-ain,  until  no  heap  is  left^ 

There  begin  not  only  exactions,  but  even  natural  de- 
mands that  that  which  is  superfluous,  as  compared  with 
what  others  have,  be  distributed  among  them;  and  not 
only  are  there  demands,  but  those  who  have  settled  in 
the  country  and  who  are  all  the  time  in  close  relations 
with  the  masses  feel  an  inevitable  necessity  of  giving 
their  surplus  to  those  who  are  in  dire  need.  Not  only 
do  they  feel  the  necessity  of  giving  up  their  surplus, 
until  they  have  left  what  all  have,  that  is,  what  the  aver- 
age has,  —  but  there  does  not  exist  a  definition  of  this 
average,  of  what  all  ought  to  have;  and  they  cannot  stop, 
because  there  is  always  a  crying  w^ant  all  about  them, 
and  they  have  a  surplus,  as  compared  with  this  want: 
it  would  seem  that  they  ought  to  retain  for  themselves 
a  glass  of  milk,  but  Matr^na  has  two  children,  one,  at  the 
breast,  who  does  not  find  any  milk  in  the  mother's  breast, 
and  the  other,  of  two  years  of  age,  who  is  beginning  to 
grow  feeble.  It  w^ould  seem  right  to  retain  a  pillow  and 
a  coverlet,  in  order  to  fall  asleep  under  habitual  condi- 
tions after  a  day  of  labour,  but  a  sick  man  is  lying  on 
a  lousy  caftan  and  is  freezing  at  night,  covering  himself 
with  a  gunny-bag.  It  would  seem  right  to  retain  the  tea, 
the  food,  but  it  becomes  necessary  to  give  all  that  to  some 
feeble  and  old  pilgrims.  It  would  seem  right  at  least  to 
retain  cleanliness  in  the  house,  but  there  come  some 
beggar  boys,  and  they  are  allowed  to  stay  overnight,  and 
fiU  the  room  with  bee,  which  the  people  had  just  rid 
themselves  of,  when  they  returned  from  a  patient. 

It  is  impossible  to  stop,  and  where  should  one  stop  ? 
Only  those  who  do  not  know  at  all  that  feeling  of  the 
consciousness  of  the  brotherhood  of  men,  in  consequence 
of  which  these  people  went  to  the  country,  or  who  are  so 
accustomed  to  lying  that  they  do  not  notice  the  difference 
between  the  He  and  the  truth,  will  say   that  there  is 


550  THE    DEMANDS    OF    LOVE 

a  limit,  at  which  it  is  possible  and  necessary  to  stop. 
The  point  is,  that  there  is  no  such  limit,  that  the  feeling 
in  the  name  of  which  this  thing  is  being  done  is  such 
that  it  has  no  limit,  —  that  if  it  has  a  limit,  it  only 
means  that  this  feeling  never  existed,  but  there  was  only 
hypocrisy. 

I  continue  to  present  these  people  to  myself.     They 
have  worked  a  whole  day ;  they  return  home ;  they  have 
no  longer  a  bed  or  a  pillow ;  they  sleep  on  straw,  which 
they  have  fetched  for  themselves ;  and  now,  having  eaten 
a  piece  of  bread,  they  lie  down  to  sleep.    It  is  autumn,  — 
it  is  raining  and  snowing.     There  is  a  knock  at  the  door. 
Can  they  refuse  to  open  it?     A  man  who  is  drenched 
and  in  a  fever  enters.     What  is  to  be  done?     Shall  he 
be  allowed  to  lie  down  on  the  dry  straw  ?     There  is  no 
more  dry  straw.     And  they  have  either  to  drive  the  sick 
man  away,  or  let  him  lie  down  on  the  floor,  wet  as  he  is, 
or  give  him  their  straw,  and  themselves  lie  down  with 
him,  since  it  is  necessary  to  sleep  somewhere.    More  than 
that :  there  comes  a  man  whom  you  know  as  a  drunkard 
and  a  dissipated  man,  whom  you  have  helped   several 
times,  and  who  every  time  spent  in  drinks  everything  you 
gave  him ;  he  comes  now,  with  trembling  jaws,  asking 
you  to  give  him  three  roubles,  which  he  stole  and  spent 
in  drinks,  and  which,  if  he  does  not  return  them,  will 
cause  him  to  be  put  in  prison.     You  say  that  you  have 
only  four  roubles  and  that  you  need  that  sum  for  a  pay- 
ment which  you   have  to   make   to-morrow.     Then  the 
visitor  says :  "  Yes,  it  is  all  nothing  but  talk ;  when  it 
comes  to  acts,  you  are  like  the  rest:  let  him  whom  we 
call  our  brother  perish,  so  long  as  we  remain  whole." 

How  is  one  to  act  in  this  case  ?  What  is  to  be  done  ? 
To  put  the  feverish  man  on  the  damp  ground,  and  them- 
selves to  lie  down  on  dry  straw,  is  only  worse,  —  you 
will  not  fall  asleep.  To  put  him  on  your  bed  and  lie 
down  with  him,  —  you  will  only  be  infected  with  lice  and 


THE   DEMANDS    OF    LOVE  551 

with  typhus.  To  give  the  beggar  the  last  three  roubles, 
means  to  be  left  without  bread  for  to-morrow.  Not  to 
give  it  to  him,  means,  as  he  says,  to  renounce  everything 
in  the  name  of  which  one  hves.  If  it  is  possible  to  stop 
here,  why  not  have  stopped  earlier  ?  What  sense  was 
there  in  helping  people  at  all  ?  Why  give  away  one's 
property,  why  leave  the  city  ?  Where  is  the  limit  ?  If 
there  is  a  hmit  to  the  work  you  are  doing,  the  whole 
work  has  no  sense,  or  has  only  one  terrible  sense  of 
hypocrisy. 

What  is  to  be  done  here?  Not  to  stop,  means  to 
ruin  one's  hfe,  be  covered  with  lice,  grow  sick,  and  die, 
and,  apparently,  without  any  use.  To  stop,  means  to 
renounce  everything  in  the  name  of  which  all  this  was 
done,  in  the  name  of  which  all  the  good  was  done.  And 
it  is  impossible  to  renounce  it,  because  it  was  not  invented 
by  me  or  by  Christ  that  we  are  brothers  and  must  serve 
one  another ;  that  is  all  so,  and  it  is  impossible  to  tear 
this  consciousness  out  of  the  heart  of  man,  when  it  has 
entered  it.  What  is  to  be  done  ?  Is  there  no  other  way 
out? 

And  so  let  us  suppose  that  these  people,  without  get- 
ting frightened  at  the  situation  in  which  they  are  placed 
by  the  necessity  of  sacrifice,  which  leads  to  inevitable 
death,  have  decided  that  their  condition  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  the  means  with  which  they  have  come  to  the  aid  of 
the  people  are  too  small,  and  that  this  would  not  have 
happened,  that  they  would  do  more  good,  if  they  had 
more  money.  And  let  us  suppose  that  these  men  have 
found  the  sources  of  aid,  have  collected  enormous  sums 
of  money,  and  have  begun  to  bear  aid.  Not  a  week 
would  pass  but  what  the  same  thing  would  have  to  be 
repeated.  Very  soon  all  the  means,  no  matter  how  great 
they  were,  would  be  poured  into  those  hollows  which  are 
formed  by  poverty,  and  the  situation  would  remain  the 
same. 


552  THE    DEMANDS    OF   LOVE 

But  maybe  there  is  still  a  third  way  out.  There  are 
some  people  who  say  that  it  exists  and  consists  in  con- 
tributing to  the  enlightenment  of  people,  when  this  in- 
equality will  be  destroyed. 

But  this  way  out  is  too  obviously  hypocritical :  it  is 
impossible  to  enlighten  a  populace  that  is  any  minute 
on  the  brink  of  death  from  starvation.  The  insincerity 
of  the  men  who  preach  this  is,  above  all  else,  to  be  seen 
from  the  mere  fact  that  a  man  who  is  striving  to  establish 
this  equality,  even  by  means  of  science,  cannot  help  but 
maintain  this  inequality  with  his  whole  life. 

But  there  is  a  fourth  way  out :  it  consists  in  contrib- 
uting to  the  destruction  of  all  those  causes  which  produce 
the  inequality, —  in  contributing  to  the  destruction  of  the 
violence  which  produces  it. 

And  this  way  out  cannot  help  but  occur  to  those 
sincere  people  who  in  their  life  will  try  to  realize  their 
consciousness  of  the  brotherhood  of  men. 

"  If  we  cannot  live  here,  among  these  people,  in  the 
country,"  those  people  whom  I  have  imagined  will  be 
obliged  to  say  to  themselves,  "  if  we  are  placed  in  such 
a  terrible  situation  that  we  must  inevitably  grow  sick,  be 
covered  with  lice,  and  die  a  slow  death,  or  renounce  the 
one  moral  foundation  of  our  life,  this  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  wealth  is  collected  in  the  hands  of  some,  while  others 
are  in  distress ;  this  inequality  is  due  to  violence ;  and 
since  the  basis  of  everything  is  violence,  we  must  fight 
against  it."  Only  the  destruction  of  this  violence  and  of 
the  slavery  resulting  from  it  can  make  possible  such  a 
ministration  to  men  that  the  sacrifice  of  one's  life  shall 
not  be  inevitable. 

But  how  is  this  violence  to  be  destroyed  ?  Where  is 
it  ?  It  is  in  the  soldier,  in  the  policeman,  in  the  elder, 
in  the  lock,  which  locks  my  door.  How  can  I  struggle 
against  them  ?     Where,  in  what  ? 

Here  are  people  who  all  live  by  violence,  and  who 


THE    DEMANDS    OF    LOYE  55 


o 


struggle  against  violence  and  with  violence  struggle 
against  violence. 

But  for  a  sincere  man  this  is  impossible.  To  oppose 
violence  to  violence  means  to  put  new  violence  in  the 
place  of  the  old.  To  help  by  means  of  enlightenment, 
which  is  based  on  violence,  means  the  same.  To  collect 
money,  which  is  acquired  through  violence,  and  to  use  it 
in  aichng  men  who  are  deprived  of  their  share  through 
violence,  means  with  violence  to  cure  wounds  which  are 
produced  by  violence. 

Even  in  the  case  which  I  represent  to  myself,  —  not  to 
let  the  sick  man  in,  not  to  let  him  lie  down  on  my  bed, 
and  not  to  give  the  three  roubles,  because  I  can  by  force 
retain  the  money,  there  is  also  violence.  And  so  the 
struggle  with  violence  does  not  for  a  man  of  our  society, 
who  wishes  to  live  fraternally,  exclude  the  necessity  of 
giving  up  his  life,  of  becoming  covered  with  lice,  and 
of  dying,  —  but  withal,  fighting  violence,  not  with  the 
sermon  of  violence,  but  with  the  arraignment  of  violence, 
and,  above  all,  with  the  example,  not  of  violence,  but  of 
sacrifice.  No  matter  how  terrible  and  difficult  may  be 
the  position  of  a  man  who  is  living  a  Christian  life  amidst 
a  hfe  of  violence,  he  has  no  other  way  out  but  struggle 
and  sacrifice,  —  and  sacrifice  until  the  end. 

We  must  see  the  abyss  which  separates  the  vermin- 
ridden,  starved  millions  of  people  from  the  overfed,  lace- 
wearing  other  people ;  and  to  fill  it  up  we  need  sacrifices, 
and  not  that  hypocrisy  with  which  we  now  try  to  conceal 
from  ourselves  the  depth  of  this  abyss.  A  man  may  not 
find  sufficient  strength  in  himself  to  throw  himself  into 
this  abyss,  but  not  one  man  who  seeks  life  can  avoid  it. 
We  may  not  want  to  go  into  it ;  but  let  us  know  and  say 
so,  and  not  deceive  ourselves,  not  dissemble. 

Yes  and  no,  this  abyss  is  not  at  all  so  terrible.  And 
if  it  is,  the  terrors  awaiting  us  on  the  path  of  worldly  life 
are  more  terrible. 


554  THE   DEMANDS    OF    LOVE 

There  are  fewer  chances  of  dying  from  lice,  the  plague, 
or  want,  in  helping  people  and  giving  everything  we  have 
to  them,  than  of  dying  in  manoeuvres,  in  war. 

These  lice  and  the  black  bread  and  want  seem  so  terri- 
ble to  us.  The  bottom  of  want  is  not  deep,  and  frequently 
—  like  the  boy  who  in  terror  passed  a  night  hanging  down 
from  a  projection  in  the  well,  into  which  he  had  fallen  — 
we  are  afraid  of  the  imaginary  depth  and  the  water :  one 
foot  below  the  boy  there  was  a  dry  bottom. 

But  we  must  not  depend  on  this  bottom,  —  we  must 
march  on  toward  death.  Only  that  love  is  love  for  which 
there  is  no  end  to  sacrifices,  —  until  death  itself. 


tolst6yism 

(From  his  diaxy  of  the  year  1897) 

I  WAS  glad  to  have  had  an  opportunity  of  expressing 
myself  and  making  it  clear  to  myself  that  it  is  a  great 
and  gross  mistake  to  talk  of  Tolstoyism,  to  seek  my  guid- 
ance, to  ask  for  my  solution  of  questions. 

There  never  has  been  such  a  thing  as  my  teaching ; 
there  is  the  one  eternal,  universal  teaching  of  the  truth, 
which  for  me,  for  us,  is  expressed  in  the  Gospels  with 
particular  clearness.  This  teaching  calls  man  to  the  rec- 
ognition of  his  filial  relation  to  God,  and  so  of  his  freedom, 
or  his  slavery  (call  it  as  you  will),  —  the  freedom  from 
the  influence  of  the  world,  and  the  slavery  to  God,  —  to 
His  will ;  and  as  soon  as  a  man  has  come  to  understand 
this  teaching,  he  freely  enters  into  an  immediate  com- 
munion with  God,  and  he  has  nothing  to  ask  any  one 
about. 

It  is  like  rowing  on  a  river  which  spreads  beyond  the 
current.  So  long  as  a  man  is  not  in  the  middle  current, 
but  in  the  calm,  he  has  to  row  himself,  and  here  he  may 
be  guided  by  the  direction  of  other  men's  rowing.  There 
I,  too,  myself  rowing  toward  the  current,  was  able  to  guide 
people ;  but  the  moment  we  have  entered  the  current, 
there  is  no  guide,  and  there  can  be  none.  We  are  all 
borne  down  by  the  power  of  the  current,  all  of  us  in  one 
direction,  and  those  who  were  behind  us  may  be  ahead 
of  us. 

If  a  man  asks  whither  he  should  row,  this  proves  that 
he  has  not  yet  entered  the  current,  and  that  be  whom  he 

666 


556  TOLSTOYISM 

asks  is  a  poor  guide,  if  he  was  not  able  to  bring  him  to 
the  current,  that  is,  to  that  condition  where  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  ask,  because  there  is  no  sense  in  asking.  How  can 
I  ask  whither  I  should  row,  when  the  current  bears  me 
with  irresistible  force  in  the  direction  which  gives  me  joy  ? 
People  who  submit  to  one  guide,  and  believe  and  obey 
him,  are  certainly  wandering  in  the  dark,  together  with 
their  guide. 


CONTENTS 


PAOK 

The  Slavery  of  Our  Time 1 

What  Is  Religion  ? 75 

To  THE   Working  People 129 

The  First  Distiller  ;  ok,  How  the  Devil  Earned        , 

A  Crust  of  Bread 171 

Lev    N.    Tolst6y  :    An    Analysis    of    His    Life    and 

Works 203 

Chronological    Table    of    Events    in    the    Life    of 

Tolstoy 309 

Index  to  Life  and  Works  of  Tolst(5y        .         .         .  319 

On  the  Pronunciation  of  Russian  Words          .         .  329 

Index  to  Thoughts  and  Names  in  Tolstoy's  Works  333 

BiBLIOGR  \PHY     •          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .  401 


THE  SLAVERY  OF   OUR  TIME 

1900 


THE  SLAVERY   OF   OUR  TIME 


INTRODUCTION 

Almost  fifteen  years  ago  the  census  taken  in  Moscow 
evoked  in  me  a  series  of  thoughts  and  sentiments  which 
I,  as  well  as  I  could,  expressed  in  a  book,  entitled  What 
Shall  We  Do  Tlien  ?  Toward  the  end  of  last  year, 
the  year  1899, 1  had  occasion  once  more  to  reflect  upon  the 
same  questions,  and  the  answers  at  which  I  arrived  were 
the  same  as  in  the  book,  JVhat  Shall  We  Bo  Then  ?  but 
as  it  seems  to  me  that  in  these  fifteen  years  I  have  been 
able  more  calmly  and  at  greater  length,  in  connection 
with  the  now  existing  aud  popular  doctrines,  once  more 
to  reflect  upon  the  subject  which  was  discussed  in  the 
book,  IVliat  Shall  We  Do  Then  ?  I  now  offer  my  readers 
new  proofs,  which  bring  us  to  the  same  answers  as  before. 
I  think  that  these  arguments  may  be  useful  to  people 
who  are  sincerely  striving  after  an  elucidation  of  their 
position  in  society  and  to  a  clear  determination  of  the 
moral  obligations  which  arise  from  this  position,  and  so  I 
print  them. 

The  fundamental  idea,  both  of  that' book  and  of  the 
present  article,  is  the  rejection  of  violence.  This  rejec- 
tion I  learned  and  came  to  understand  from  the  Gospel, 
where  it  is  most  clearly  expressed  in  the  words,  "  An  eye 
for  an  eye  .  .  .  that  is,  you  have  been  taught  to  use  vio- 


4  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

lence  against  violence,  but  I  teach  you  to  offer  the  other 
cheek,  when  you  are  smitten,  that  is,  to  endure  violence, 
but  not  to  offer  it."  I  know  that  these  great  words, 
thanks  to  the  frivolously  perverse  and  mutually  concord- 
ant interpretations  of  the  hberals  and  of  the  church,  will 
for  the  majority  of  so-called  cultured  people  be  the  cause 
why  they  will  not  read  the  article,  or  why  they  will  read 
it  v/ith  a  bias ;  none  the  less  I  place  these  words  at  the 
head  of  the  present  article. 

I  cannot  keep  people  who  call  themselves  enlightened 
from  regarding  the  Gospel  teaching  as  an  obsolete  guid- 
ance of  life  which  was  long  ago  outlived  by  humanity. 
It  is  my  business  to  point  out  the  source  from  which  I 
drew  the  knowledge  of  the  truth  which  is  still  far  from 
being  cognized  by  all  men,  and  which  alone  can  free  peo- 
ple from  their  calamities.     And  this  I  am  doing. 

Jwie  28, 1900, 


A  WEIGHER  serving  on  the  IMoscow-Kaz^n  Railway,  with 
whom  I  am  acquainted,  told  me,  in  a  conversation  whicli 
I  had  with  him,  that  peasants  wlio  load  freight  on  his 
scales  work  for  thirty-six  hours  in  succession. 

In  spite  of  my  fuU  confidence  in  the  truthfulness  of  my 
interlocutor,  I  could  not  believe  him.  I  thought  that  he 
was  either  mistaken,  or  was  exaggerating,  or  that  I  had 
not  understood  him  correctly. 

But  the  weigher  went  on  to  give  me  such  details  about 
the  conditions  under  which  this  work  takes  place,  that  no 
room  for  doubt  was  left.  According  to  his  story  there 
are  250  such  freight-hands  on  the  Moscow-Kazan  Eoad. 
They  are  divided  into  parties  of  five,  and  work  by  con- 
tract, receiving  from  one  rouble  to  one  rouble  and  fifteen 
kopeks  per  thousand  puds  of  freight  loaded  or  unloaded. 

They  come  in  the  morning,  work  a  day  and  a  night 
unloading,  and  immediately  after  the  end  of  the  night,  in 
the  morning,  start  to  load  up,  and  thus  work  for  another 
day.     Thus  they  sleep  but  one  night  in  forty-eight  hours. 

Their  work  consists  in  throwing  out  and  taking  away 
bales  weighing  seven,  eight,  and  even  ten  puds.  Two 
men  hoist  the  bales  on  the  shoulders  of  the  other  three, 
and  these  carry  the  load.  By  such  labour  they  earn  one 
rouble  per  day,  out  of  which  they  have  to  feed  them- 
selves.    They  work  continuously,  without  holidays. 

The  weigher's  story  was  so  circumstantial  that  it  was 
impossible  to  doubt  it,  but  I  none  the  less  decided  to 
verify  it,  and  so  went  to  the  freight  station. 

Upon  finding  my  acquaintance  at  the  freight  station, 

6 


6  THE    SLAVERY    OF    Om   TIME 

I  told  him  that  T  had  come  to  look  at  what  he  had  told 

me. 

"Nobody  to  whom  I  tell  it  is  willing  to  believe  it," 

I  said. 

"  Nikita,"  the  weigher,  without  answering  me,  turned 
to  some  one  in  the  shed,  "  come  here  ! " 

Out  of  the  door  stepped  a  tall,  slim  labourer,  in  a  torn 
coat. 

"  When  did  you  begin  working  ? " 

"  When  ?     Yesterday  morning." 

"  Where  were  you  during  the  night  ? " 

"  Where  else,  but  at  the  unloading  ?  " 

"  Did  you  work  at  night  ? "  I  asked  this  time. 

"  Of  course,  I  worked." 

"  And  when  did  you  come  here  to-day  ? " 

"  In  the  morning,  —  what  a  question  ! " 

"  And  when  will  you  get  through  with  your  work  ? " 

"  When  they  discharge  me,  —  then  shall  I  get  through." 

Four  more  labourers,  out  of  a  party  of  five,  came  up  to 
us. 

They  were  all  without  fur  coats,  in  torn  undercoats, 
although  it  was  twenty  degrees  Rt^aumur  below  zero. 

I  asked  them  about  the  details  of  their  work,  evidently 
puzzling  them  with  my  interest  in  what  to  them  was  so 
simple  and  natural  a  thing  as  thirty-six  hours'  work. 

They  were  all  villagers,  for  the  most  part  my  country- 
men, from  the  Government  of  Tula ;  there  were  also 
some  from  Or^l  and  others  from  Voronezh.  They  live  in 
Moscow  in  hired  rooms,  some  with  their  families,  but  for 
the  most  part  alone.  Those  who  live  alone  send  their 
earnings  home. 

They  board  singly  with  their  landlords.  Their  board 
comes  to  ten  roubles  per  month,  and  they  eat  meat  at  all 
times  without  keeping  the  fasts. 

They  are  at  work,  not  thirty-six  hours  in  succession, 
but  always  more,  because  they  lose  more  than  half  an 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME  I 

hour  in  going  from  their  quarters  and  coming  back,  and, 
besides,  are  frequently  kept  at  work  for  more  than  the  set 
time.  With  such  thirty-seven  hours'  work  in  succession 
they  earn  twenty-five  roubles  per  month,  out  of  which 
they  have  to  pay  for  their  board. 

In  reply  to  my  question  as  to  w^hy  they  do  such  con- 
vict labour,  they  answered : 

"  What  else  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"  But  why  work  thirty-six  hours  in  succession  ?  Can't 
you  arrange  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  work  by  relays  ? " 

"  That's  what  we  are  told  to  do." 

"  But  why  do  you  consent  ?  " 

"  We  consent,  because  we  have  to  make  a  living.  It 
you  do  not  want  to,  —  go  !  If  you  are  an  hour  late,  you 
get  your  discharge,  —  and  march  !  There  are  ten  other 
men  who  are  ready  to  take  your  place." 

The  labourers  were  all  young  people ;  only  one  of  them 
was  older,  somewhere  above  forty.  They  all  had  emaci- 
ated, careworn  faces  and  weary  eyes,  as  though  they  had 
been  drinking.  The  slim  labourer  with  whom  I  had  first 
begun  to  speak  struck  me  more  especially  by  this  strange 
weariness  of  his  look.  I  asked  him  whether  he  had  not 
had  something  to  drink  that  day. 

"  I  do  not  drink,"  he  answered,  as  without  thinking 
always  answer  people  who  really  do  not  drink. 

"  And  I  do  not  smoke,  either,"  he  added. 

"  And  do  the  others  drink  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  they  do.     They  bring  it  here." 

"  It  is  no  light  work.  It  will  give  you  strength,  all  the 
same,"  said  a  middle-aged  labourer. 

This  labourer  had  had  some  liquor  on  that  day,  but  he 
did  not  show  it  at  all. 

After  some  further  talk  with  the  labourers,  I  went  to 
take  a  look  at  the  unloading. 

After  passing  between  long  rows  of  all  kinds  of  mer- 
chandise, I   came  to  some   labourers   who    were   slowly 


8  THE   SLAVERY    OF   OUR   TIME 

moving  a  loaded  car.  The  shifting  of  the  cars  and  the 
clearing  of  the  platforms  from  snow,  as  I  later  learned, 
the  labourers  are  obliged  to  do  without  any  remuneration. 
It  even  says  so  in  the  contract.  These  labourers  were  as 
ragged  and  as  emaciated  as  those  with  whom  I  talked. 
When  they  had  rolled  the  car  up  to  the  place  wanted,  and 
stopped,  I  .went  up  to  them  and  asked  them  when  they 
had  begun  working,  and  when  they  had  had  their  dinner. 

I  was  told  that  they  had  begun  to  work  at  seven  o'clock 
and  had  just  had  their  dinner. 

"We  had  to  have  dinner  after  work  was  through, — 
they  did  not  let  us  go." 

"  And  when  will  they  let  you  go  ? " 

"  Any  time.  It  may  be  as  late  as  ten  o'clock,"  replied 
the  labourers,  as  though  priding  themselves  on  their 
endurance  in  work. 

Seeing  my  interest  in  their  condition,  the  labourers 
surrounded  me,  and,  cpeaking  several  at  a  time,  apparently 
taking  me  for  a  chief,  informed  me,  what  evidently  formed 
their  chief  grievance,  that  the  quarters  where  at  times 
they  could  warm  themselves  or  fall  asleep  for  an  hour, 
between  the  day  and  the  night  work,  were  narrow.  ■  They 
all  expressed  great  dissatisfaction  with  the  crowded  quarters. 

"  Some  hundred  men  gather  there,  and  there  is  no  place 
to  lie  down  in ;  it  is  crowded  even  under  the  benches," 
several  voices  said,  with  dissatisfaction.  "  Look  at  it 
yourself,  —  it  is  not  far  from  here." 

The  quarters  were  crowded  indeed.  In  the  room,  which 
was  about  twenty  feet  square,  about  forty  men  could  find 
places  on  the  benches. 

Several  labourers  followed  me  into  the  room,  and  all  of 
them,  interrupting  one  another,  angrily  complained  of  the 
crowded  condition  of  the  quarters.  "  There  is  even  no 
place  to  lie  down  under  the  benches,"  they  said. 

At  first  it  seemed  strange  to  me  that  all  these  men, 
who  in  a  cold  of  twenty  below  zero,  without  fur  coats,  for 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME  « 

the  period  of  thirty-seven  hours  carried  ten-pud  weights 
on  their  backs,  who  were  not  allowed  to  go  to  dinner  and 
supper  when  it  was  time  to,  but  when  it  so  pleased  the 
authorities,  and  who,  in  general,  were  in  an  infinitely 
worse  state  than  the  dray-horses,  should  complain  of 
nothing  but  the  crowded  condition  of  their  warming- 
place.  At  first  this  seemed  strange  to  me,  but,  when  I 
reflected  on  their  condition,  I  understood  what  an  agoniz- 
ing experience  it  must  be  for  these  men,  who  do  not  get 
enough  sleep  and  are  frozen,  when,  instead  of  resting  and 
warming  themselves,  they  crawl  over  a  dirty  floor  under 
the  benches,  and  there  feel  only  weaker  and  more  tired 
in  the  close,  infected  atmosphere. 

No  doubt,  they  only  in  this  agonizing  hour  of  a  vain 
attempt  at  sleeping  feel  painfully  the  whole  terror  of  their 
thirty-seven  hours'  work,  which  ruins  their  lives,  and  so 
are  more  especially  provoked  by  this  seemingly  unimpor- 
tant circumstance,  —  the  crowded  condition  of  the  quarters. 
After  watching  several  of  their  parties  at  work  and  speak- 
ing with  some  of  the  labourers,  and  hearing  one  and  the 
same  thing  from  all  of  them,  I  went  home,  fully  convinced 
that  what  my  acquaintance  told  me  was  the  truth. 

It  was  true  that  for  money,  which  gives  nothing  but 
their  sustenance  to  men  who  consider  themselves  free, 
these  men  find  it  necessary  to  hire  themselves  out  for 
work  to  which  in  the  times  of  serf  law  not  one  serf- 
owner,  even  the  most  cruel,  would  have  sent  out  his 
slaves.  Why,  not  even  a  hack-owner  would  send  out 
his  horse,  because  his  horse  cost  money,  and  it  is  not 
profitable  to  shorten  the  life  of  a  costly  animal  by 
means  of  thirty-seven  hours  of  the  hardest  kind  of  work. 


It  is  not  merely  cruel,  but  even  unprofitable,  to  make 
men  work  for  thirty-seven  hours  in  succession,  without 


10  THE   SLAVERY    OP    OUR   TIME 

any  sleep.  And  yet  such  unprofitable  exploitation  of 
human  lives  is  taking  place  all  about  us  without  inter- 
ruption. 

Opposite  the  house  in  which  I  live  there  is  a  factory  of 
silk  articles,  which  has  all  the  latest  technical  improve- 
ments. In  it  live  and  work  about  three  thousand  women 
and  seven  hundred  men.  Just  as  I  am  sitting  here,  in 
my  house,  I  hear  the  continuous  rumble  of  machinery, 
and  I  know,  for  I  have  been  there,  what  this  rumble 
means.  Three  thousand  women  stand  for  twelve  hours 
at  the  looms,  amidst  a  deafening  noise,  winding,  unwind- 
ing, spinning  silk  threads  for  the  production  of  silk  stuffs. 
All  the  women,  with  the  exception  of  those  who  have 
just  come  from  the  villages,  have  an  unhealthy  appear- 
ance. The  majority  of  them  lead  a  very  incontinent  and 
immoral  life ;  nearly  all  the  married  and  unmarried 
women  immediately  after  childbirth  send  their  children 
either  into  the  country  or  into  a  foundling  house,  where 
eighty  per  cent,  of  these  children  perish ;  and  the  mothers, 
not  to  lose  their  places,  go  back  to  work  one  or  two  days 
after  childbirth. 

Thus,  in  the  period  of  twenty  years  that  I  have  known 
this,  tens  of  thousands  of  young,  healthy  women  have 
been  ruining  their  lives  and  those  of  their  children,  in 
order  to  produce  velvet  and  silk  stuffs. 

Yesterday  I  met  a  young  beggar  of  a  powerful  build, 
whose  spine  was  curved  and  who  was  walking  with 
crutches.  He  had  been  working  with  a  wheelbarrow, 
when  he  lost  his  balance  and  injured  himself  internally. 
He  spent  what  he  had  with  doctors  and  curing-women, 
and  has  been  these  eight  years  without  a  home,  has  been 
begging,  and  murmurs  against  God  for  not  sending  death 
to  him. 

How  many  such  ruined  hves  there  are,  which  we 
either  know  nothing  of,  or,  if  we  know,  do  not  notice, 
thinking  that  it  is  right  as  it  is ! 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME  11 

I  know  in  a  Tula  iron  foundry  labourers  at  the  fur- 
naces, who,  to  have  eveiy  second  ^iuuday  free,  work 
twenty-four  hours  in  succession.  I  have  seen  these 
labourers.  They  all  drink  liquor,  to  brace  themselves, 
and,  just  like  those  freight-handlers  at  the  railroad,  obvi- 
ously are  rapidly  losing  not  only  the  interest,  but  even 
the  capital  of  their  lives.  Aud  wliat  about  the  wasting 
of  the  lives  of  those  men  who  are  employed  in  admittedly 
iujurious  labour, —  the  compositors,  who  poison  them- 
selves with  lead  dust,  the  workmen  in  mirror  factories,  in 
card,  match,  sugar,  tobacco,  glass  factories,  the  miners, 
the  privy-cleaners  ? 

The  statistical  data  of  England  say  that  the  average 
length  of  the  lives  of  the  men  of  the  higher  classes  is 
iifty-tive  years,  but  that  the  duration  of  the  hves  of  work- 
men in  unhealthy  professions  is  twenty-nine  years. 

It  would  seem  that,  knowing  this  (it  is  impossible  not 
to  know  this),  we,  the  men  who  use  the  labour  that  costs 
so  many  human  lives,  if  we  are  no  beasts,  could  not  for 
a  moment  remain  at  peace.  And  yet,  we,  well-to-do, 
liberal,  humane  people,  who  are  very  sensitive,  not  only 
to  the  sufferings  of  men,  but  of  animals  as  well,  continue 
to  employ  this  labour,  try  to  become  richer  and  richer, 
that  is,  to  use  more  aud  more  of  such  labour,  and  remain 
completely  at  peace. 

Having,  for  example,  learned  of  the  thirty-seven-hour 
work  of  the  freight-handlers  and  of  their  bad  quarters,  we 
will  immediately  send  there  a  well-paid  inspector,  will 
not  allow  any  work  above  twelve  hours,  leaving  the  third 
of  the  labourers  who  are  deprived  of  their  income  to  live 
as  they  please,  will  even  compel  the  railroad  to  build 
commodious  and  ample  quarters  for  the  labourers,  and 
then  we  shall  with  absolutely  calm  consciences  receive 
and  transport  goods  by  this  road  and  receive  a  salary, 
dividends,  rentals  from  houses,  from  land,  and  so  forth, 
Aud,  upon  learning  that  women  and  girls,  who  live  in 


IZ  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

the  silk  factory,  far  away  from  their  famihes  and  amidst 
temptations,  are  ruining  themselves  and  their  children, 
that  the  greater  part  of  the  laundresses  who  iron  our 
starched  shirts,  and  of  the  compositors  who  set  up  enter- 
taining books  for  us,  grow  consumptive,  we  shall  only 
shrug  our  shoulders  and  say  that  we  are  very  sorry  that 
this  is  so,  but  that  we  are  unable  to  do  anything  to  pre- 
vent this,  and  we  shall  continue  with  an  easy  conscience 
to  purchase  silk  stuffs,  to  wear  starched  shirts,  and  to 
read  the  newspapers  in  the  morning.  We  are  very  much 
concerned  about  the  resting  spells  of  commercial  clerks, 
still  more  about  the  overexertion  of  our  children  in  the 
gymnasia,  strictly  forbid  the  draymen  to  overload  their 
horses,  and  even  so  arrange  the  slaughtering  of  the 
animals  in  the  slaughter-houses  that  the  animals  shall 
suffer  as  little  as  possible.  What  remarkable  eclipse 
shrouds  us  the  moment  we  touch  on  those  millions  of 
labourers  who  on  all  sides  slowly  and  often  painfully  kill 
themselves  with  that  work  which  we  use  for  our  conve- 
niences and  pleasures ! 


This  remarkable  eclipse  that  the  people  of  our  circle 
suffer  from  may  be  explained  only  by  this,  that  when 
people  act  badly,  they  always  invent  such  a  world-con- 
ception for  themselves  that  their  evil  deeds  may  not 
appear  as  evil,  but  as  the  consequences  of  invariable  laws 
which  are  beyond  their  power.  In  antiquity  such  a 
world-conception  consisted  in  this,  that  there  exists  God's 
inexplicable  and  invariable  will,  which  for  some  deter- 
mined a  low  position  and  work,  and  for  others  a  high 
position  and  the  enjoyment  of  the  goods  of  life. 

Upon  the  theme  of  this  world-conception  a  vast  number 
of  books  were  written  and  an  endless  number  of  sermons 
delivered.  This  theme  was  worked  out  from  the  most 
various  sides.     It  was  proved  that  God  created  different 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME  13 

kinds  of  men,  slaves  and  masters,  and  that  both  ought  to 
be  satisfied  with  their  situation ;  then  it  was  proved  that 
the  slaves  would  be  better  off  in  the  world  to  come ;  then 
it  was  made  clear  that,  although  the  slaves  were  slaves 
and  must  remain  such,  their  situation  would  not  be  bad, 
if  their  masters  were  merciful  to  them ;  then,  after  the 
liberation  of  the  slaves,  the  last  explanation  was,  that 
wealth  was  entrusted  to  some  people  that  they  might  use 
part  of  it  for  good  acts,  and  that  in  this  case  the  wealth 
of  some  and  the  poverty  of  the  others  did  not  represent 
anything  bad. 

These  explanations  for  a  long  time  satisfied  both  the 
poor  and  the  rich,  especially  the  latter.  But  the  time 
came  when  these  explanations  became  insufficient,  espe- 
cially for  those  who  began  to  understand  their  condition 
of  poverty.  Then  new  explanations  were  needed,  and 
just  at  that  time  these  new  explanations  made  their 
appearance.  These  appeared  in  the  form  of  science, — 
political  economy,  which  asserts  that  it  has  found  the 
laws  according  to  which  labour  and  the  use  of  its  produc- 
tions are  distributed  among  men.  These  laws,  according 
to  the  doctrine  of  this  science,  consist  in  this,  that  the 
distribution  of  labour  and  the  use  of  it  depends  on  supply 
and  demand,  on  capital,  interest,  wages,  prices,  profit,  etc., 
in  general  on  invariable  laws  which  condition  men's 
economical  activity. 

On  this  theme  there  were  in  a  short  time  written  not 
fewer  books  and  pamphlets  and  delivered  not  fewer  lec- 
tures than  there  had  been  written  treatises  and  delivered 
tlieological  sermons  on  the  previous  theme,  and  even  now 
they  incessantly  write  mountains  of  books  and  pamphlets 
and  deliver  lectures  on  the  same  subject ;  and  all  these 
books  and  lectures  are  just  as  misty  and  incomprehen- 
sible as  the  theological  treatises  and  sermons,  and,  hke 
the  theological  treatises,  they  attain  their  end,  which  is, 
to  give   an  explanation  of  the  existing  order  of  things, 


14  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

such  as  would  make  it  possible  for  one  set  of  men  to  be 
at  rest,  and  not  to  work,  and  to  enjoy  the  labours  of 
other  men. 

The  fact  that  for  the  investigations  of  this  putative 
science  they  did  not  take  the  condition  of  the  men  of  the 
whole  world  during  all  its  historical  existence  as  a  model 
of  the  general  order,  but  only  the  condition  of  men  in 
small  England,  which  has  existed  under  exceptional  con- 
ditions, at  the  end  of  the  last  and  the  beginning  of  the 
present  century,  did  not  in  the  least  interfere  with  the 
recognition  of  the  truth  of  the  propositions  arrived  at  by 
the  investigators,  even  as  the  endless  disputes  and  differ- 
ences of  the  leaders  of  this  science,  who  cannot  come  to 
any  agreement  as  to  how  to  understand  rentals,  increased 
valuation,  profit,  etc.,  do  not  interfere  with  it  at  the  pres- 
ent time.  There  is  but  one  fundamental  proposition  of 
this  science  which  is  recognized  by  all,  and  that  is,  that 
human  relations  are  not  conditioned  by  what  men  con- 
sider good  or  bad,  but  by  what  is  advantageous  to  the 
people  who  are  already  in  an  advantageous  position. 

What  has  been  accepted  as  an  indubitable  truth  is 
this,  that,  if  in  society  there  are  bred  a  large  number 
of  robbers  and  thieves,  who  take  from  the  labouring 
people  the  productions  of  their  labour,  this  is  not  due 
to  the  fact  that  the  robbers  and  thieves  act  badly,  but 
because  such  are  the  unchangeable  economic  laws,  which 
may  be  changed  only  by  a  slow  evolution,  is  determined 
by  science,  and  so,  according  to  the  doctrine  of  this 
science,  the  men  who  belong  to  the  class  of  the  robbers, 
thieves,  or  abettors,  who  enjoy  the  fruits  of  their  rob- 
bery and  stealing,  may  calmly  continue  to  enjoy  what 
they  have  stolen  and  taken  by  violence. 

Though  the  majority  of  the  men  of  our  world  do  not 
know  these  soothing  explanations  of  science,  just  as  many 
former  men  did  not  know  the  details  of  the  theological 
explanations  which  justified  their  position,  —  they  none 


THE   SLAVERY   OF   OUR   TIME  15 

the  less  know  that  this  explanation  exists,  that  the  learned 
and  wise  men  have  incoutrovertiblv  proved  that  the  ex- 
isting order  of  things  is  just  what  it  ought  to  be,  and 
that,  therefore,  we  may  calmly  live  in  this  order  of 
things,  without  trying  to  change  it. 

It  is  only  in  this  way  that  I  am  able  to  explain  that 
remarkable  blindness  in  which  find  themselves  the  good 
people  of  our  society  who  sincerely  wish  the  animals 
well,  but  with  an  easy  conscience  feast  on  the  hves  of 
their  brothers. 


The  theory  that  God's  will  consists  in  this,  that  one 
set  of  men  should  rule  another,  for  a  long  time  eased 
men's  consciences.  But  this  theory,  in  justifying  the 
cruelties  of  men,  carried  these  cruelties  to  the  utmost 
Hmits,  and  thus  provoked  opposition  and  doubts  as  to 
its  truthfulness. 

Even  so  now  the  theory  that  the  economic  evolution 
takes  place  according  to  inevitable  laws,  in  consequence 
of  which  one  set  of  men  must  hoard  capital,  while  others 
must  work  all  their  lives,  to  increase  this  capital,  while 
preparing  themselves  for  the  promised  sociahzation  of  the 
tools  of  production,  —  by  provoking  an  even  greater 
cruelty  of  one  set  of  men  against  all  others,  —  is  begin- 
ning now,  especially  amidst  simple  men  who  are  not 
stultified  by  science,  to  provoke  certain  doubts. 

You  see,  for  example,  the  freight-handlers,  who  are 
ruining  their  lives  by  their  work  of  thirty-seven  hours' 
duration,  or  the  women  in  the  factory,  or  the  laundresses, 
or  the  compositors,  or  all  those  millions  of  people  who 
live  under  grievous,  unnatural  conditions  of  monotonous, 
stultifying  slave  labour,  and  you  naturally  ask:  "What 
has  brought  these  people  to  such  a  state,  and  how  can 
they  be  liberated  from  it?"  And  science  answers  you 
that  these  men  are  in  such  a  state,  because  the  railroad 


16  .      THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME 

belongs  to  such  and  such  a  company,  the  silk  factory  to 
such  and  such  a  master,  and  all  the  plants,  factories, 
printing  offices,  laundries,  to  capitalists,  in  general,  and 
that  this  situation  will  improve  if  the  working  people, 
by  uniting  into  unions  and  cooperative  societies  and  by 
means  of  strikes  and  of  participation  in  the  government 
exerting  an  ever  greater  infiueuce  upon  their  masters  and 
the  government,  will  attain,  at  first  a  shortening  of  the 
work-day  and  an  increase  of  the  wages,  and  finally  this, 
that  all  the  implements  of  production  will  pass  into 
their  hands,  and  then  all  will  be  well ;  but  now  every- 
thing is  going  the  way  it  ought  to,  and  there  is  no  need  of 
changing  anything. 

This  answer  cannot  help  but  appear  very  strange  to 
unlearned  men,  particularly  to  unlearned  Eussians.  In 
the  first  place,  neither  in  relation  to  the  freight-handlers, 
i:.or  to  the  women,  nor  to  the  many  millions  of  other 
workers,  who  suffer  from  the  hard,  unhealthy,  stultifying 
labour,  does  the  belonging  of  the  implements  of  produc- 
tion to  the  capitalist  ofi'er  any  explanation.  The  imple- 
ments of  production  in  agriculture  v/hich  belong  to  the 
labourers  who  are  living  now  at  the  railroad  have  not 
been  seized  by  the  capitalists  at  all ;  these  labourers  have 
land,  and  horses,  and  ploughs,  and  harrows,  and  every- 
thing needed  for  the  cultivation  of  the  soil ;  even  so  the 
women  who  work  in  the  factory  are  not  driven  to  this 
work  because  the  implements  of  production  have  been 
taken  from  then ;  on  the  contrary,  they  generally  go 
away  from  homo  against  the  will  of  the  elder  members 
of  the  family,  though  their  work  is  very  much  needed 
there,  and  though  there  are  there  all  the  implements 
of  production.  In  the  same  condition  are  millions  of 
labourers,  both  in  Russia  and  in  other  countries.  Thus 
the  cause  of  the  wretched  condition  of  the  working 
people  can  by  no  means  be  found  in  the  seizure  by  the 
capitalists  of  the  implements  of  production.     The  cause 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME  17 

must  be  found  in  what  drives  them  out  of  the  vallage. 
So  much  in  the  first  place.  In  the  second  place,  neither 
the  shortening  of  the  work-day,  nor  the  increase  in  wages, 
nor  the  promised  sociahzation  of  the  implements  of  pro- 
duction, can  in  any  way  free  the  working  people  from  this 
state,  even  in  that  distant  future,  when  science  promises 
them  that  hberation. 

All  that  cannot  improve  their  condition,  because  the 
wretchedness  of  the  position  of  the  working  people,  upon 
the  railroad,  or  in  the  silk  factory,  or  in  any  other  factory 
or  plant,  does  not  consist  in  a  greater  or  lesser  number  of 
working  hours  (the  agriculturists  work,  while  quite  satis- 
fied with  their  lot,  as  much  as  eighteen  hours  a  day  and 
thirty-six  hours  in  succession),  and  not  in  the  small  pay, 
and  not  in  this,  that  the  railroad  or  factory  does  not 
belong  to  them,  but  in  this,  that  the  working  people  are 
obliged  to  work  under  injurious,  unnatural,  and  frequently 
dangerous  and  pernicious  conditions  of  life,  in  city  bar- 
racks, full  of  temptations  and  immorality,  and  to  do  slave 
work  for  other  people. 

Of  late  the  hours  of  work  have  been  reduced  and  the 
pay  has  been  increased,  but  this  reduction  of  the  hours  of 
labour  and  the  increase  of  pay  have  not  improved  the 
condition  of  the  working  people,  if  we  do  not  consider 
their  more  luxurious  habits,  —  a  watch  and  chain,  silk 
kerchiefs,  tobacco,  wine,  meat,  beer,  and  so  forth,  —  but 
their  real  welfare,  that  is,  their  health  and  morahty,  and, 
above  all,  their  freedom. 

In  the  factory  of  silk  articles  with  which  I  am  ac- 
quainted, twenty  years  ago  there  worked  mainly  men  who 
worked  fourteen  hours  a  day  and  earned  fifteen  roubles 
clear  a  month,  which  they  generally  sent  home  to  their 
families  in  the  country.  Now  it  is  mostly  women  who 
work  there :  they  work  eleven  hours  a  day  and  earn 
sometimes  as  much  as  twenty-five  roubles  per  month, 
or  more  than  fifteen  roubles  clear ;  they  generally  do  not 


18  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

send  the  earnings  home,  but  spend  them  here,  chiefly  on 
dresses,  drunkenness,  and  debauchery  ;  and  the  reduction 
of  hours  of  labour  only  increases  the  time  passed  by 
them  at  the  inns. 

The  same,  in  a  greater  or  lesser  measure,  takes  place  in 
all  the  factories  and  plants.  Everywhere,  in  spite  of  the 
reduction  of  the  hours  of  labour  and  the  increase  of  pay, 
the  health,  as  compared  with  that  in  agricultural  work, 
is  injured,  the  average  length  of  life  is  diminished,  and 
morality  is  lost,  as,  indeed,  it  cannot  be  otherwise,  when 
we  consider  how  they  are  removed  from  the  conditions, 
most  conducive  to  morality,  of  family  life  and  free, 
healthy,  varied,  sensible  agricultural  labour. 

It  may  be,  as  some  economists  assert,  that  with  the 
reduction  of  hours  of  labour,  the  increase  of  wages,  and 
the  improvement  of  sanitary  conditions  in  the  factories, 
the  health  of  the  working  people  and  their  morality  is 
improved  as  compared  with  the  condition  in  which  the 
factory  hands  used  to  be  formerly.  It  may  be  even  that 
of  late  and  in  certain  localities  the  condition  of  the  work- 
ing people  in  the  factories  has  in  external  conditions  been 
better  than  the  condition  of  the  rural  population.  But 
this  is  true  for  only  some  localities  and  is  due  to  this, 
that  the  government  and  society  are  doing,  under  the 
influence  of  the  propositions  of  science,  everything  that 
can  be  done  for  the  deterioration  of  the  rural  population 
and  for  the  improvement  of  the  condition  of  the  factory 
hands. 

If  the  condition  of  the  factory  hands  is  in  certain  local- 
ities —  and  that,  too,  only  in  external  conditions  —  better 
than  the  condition  of  rural  labourers,  this  only  proves 
that  with  all  kinds  of  oppressions  it  is  possible  to  reduce 
to  wretchedness  a  life  which  from  external  conditions  is 
best,  and  that  there  does  not  exist  so  unnatural  and  bad 
a  condition  but  that  a  man  can  adapt  himself  to  it  and 
remain  in  it  for  several  generations. 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME  19 

The  wretchedness  of  the  condition  of  the  factory  hand 
and  of  the  city  workman  in  general  does  not  consist  in 
his  working  long  and  getting  little  for  it,  but  in  this,  that 
he  is  deprived  of  the  natural  conditions  of  life  in  the 
midst  of  nature,  is  deprived  of  liberty,  and  is  obhged  to 
do  monotonous  slave  work  for  another. 

And  so  the  answer  to  the  questions  as  to  why  factory 
and  city  labourers  are  in  a  wretched  state,  and  how  to 
help  them,  can  nowise  consist  in  this,  that  it  is  due  to  the 
fact  that  the  capitalists  have  seized  the  implements  of 
production,  and  that  the  reduction  of  the  hours  of  labour, 
the  increase  of  wages,  and  the  socialization  of  the  imple- 
ments of  production  will  improve  the  position  of  the 
working  people. 

The  answer  to  these  questions  must  consist  in  the 
indication  of  the  causes  which  have  deprived  the  la- 
bourers of  the  natural  conditions  of  life  amidst  nature 
and  have  driven  them  into  the  slavery  of  the  factories,  and 
in  the  indication  of  the  means  for  liberating  the  working 
people  from  the  necessity  of  passing  from  the  free  life 
in  the  country  to  the  slave  life  in  the  factories. 

Thus  the  question  as  to  why  the  working  people  in  the 
cities  are  in  a  wretched  state  includes  first  of  all  the  ques- 
tion as  to  what  are  the  causes  which  drove  these  people 
away  from  the  country,  w4iere  they  or  their  ancestors 
lived  and  could  live  and  with  us  in  Eussia  still  live,  and 
what  it  is  that  against  their  will  has  been  driving  them 
into  the  factories  and  plants. 

If  there  are  such  working  people,  as  in  England,  Bel- 
gium, Germany,  who  for  several  generations  have  been 
living  in  factories,  even  these  do  not  do  so  of  their  own 
free  will,  but  because  their  parents,  grandparents,  or  great- 
grandparents  were  for  some  reason  obHged  to  change  their 
agricultural  life,  which  they  liked,  for  a  life  in  the  city 
and  in  the  factories,  which  presented  itself  to  them  as 
hard.     The  rural  population  was  at  first  forcibly  dispos- 


20  THE    SLAVERY   OF    OUR   TIME 

sessed  of  its  land,  says  K.  Marx,  and  driven  out  and 
reduced  to  the  state  of  vagrancy,  and  then,  by  force  of 
cruel  laws,  they  were  tortured  with  tongs,  hot  iron, 
scourges,  for  the  purpose  of  making  them  submit  to  the 
demands  of  private  labour.  And  so  the  question  as  to 
how  to  liberate  the  working  people  from  their  wretched 
condition  would  seem  naturally  to  reduce  itself  to  the 
question  as  to  how  to  remove  those  causes  which  have 
driven  several  and  now  drive  away  the  rest  from  that 
condition  which  these  people  have  regarded  as  good  and 
have  driven  them  into  a  condition  which  they  have 
regarded  as  bad. 

But  the  economic  science,  though  it  in  passing  points 
out  the  causes  which  have  driven  the  labourers  away 
from  the  land,  does  not  busy  itself  with  the  removal  of 
these  causes,  but  turns  all  its  attention  only  to  the  ame- 
lioration of  the  condition  of  the  working  people  in  the 
existing  factories  and  plants,  as  though  assuming  that 
the  condition  of  the  working  people  in  these  plants  and 
factories  is  something  unchangeable,  something  which 
must  by  all  means  remain  for  those  who  are  already  in 
the  factories,  and  must  become  the  condition  of  those 
who  have  not  yet  left  the  villages  and  agricultural 
labour. 

Not  only  has  the  economic  science  become  convinced 
that  all  the  rural  labourers  must  inevitably  pass  through 
the  condition  of  the  city  workers  in  the  factories,  but  also, 
despite  the  fact  that  all  the  sages  and  poets  of  the  world 
have  always  looked  only  in  the  conditions  of  agricultural 
labour  for  the  realization  of  the  ideal  of  human  happi- 
ness ;  despite  the  fact  that  all  working  people  with  uncor- 
rupted  habits  have  always  preferred  agricultural  labour  to 
any  other;  despite  the  fact  that  work  in  the  factories 
is  always  unhealtliy  and  monotonous,  while  agricultural 
work  is  most  healthy  and  varied;  despite  the  fact  that 
agricultural  labour  is  always  free,  that  is,  that  the  labourer 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  21 

at  his  will  alternates  between  work  and  rest,  while  work 
in  the  factory,  even  though  it  all  should  belong  to  the 
working  people,  is  always  slavish,  in  dependence  on  the  ma- 
chine ;  despite  the  fact  that  factory  work  is  secondary, 
while  agricultural  is  basic,  so  that  without  it  no  factories 
could  exist,  —  despite  all  that,  the  economic  science  as- 
serts that  the  country  people  not  only  do  not  suffer  from 
changing  the  country  for  the  city,  but  even  wish  for  it 
themselves  and  strive  for  it. 


No  matter  how  unjust  is  the  assertion  of  the  men  of 
science  that  the  good  of  humanity  must  consist  in  that 
which  is  profoundly  repulsive  to  human  sentiment,  in 
monotonous,  slavish  labour  in  the  factories,  the  men  of 
science  have  inevitably  been  led  to  the  necessity  of  this 
obviously  unjust  assertion,  just  as  the  theologians  were 
inevitably  led  to  just  as  obviously  unjust  an  assertion 
that  the  slaves  and  the  masters  are  different  beings,  and 
that  the  inequality  of  their  conditions  in  this  world  will 
be  requited  in  the  world  to  come. 

The  cause  of  this  obviously  unjust  assertion  is  this, 
that  the  men  who  have  been  establishing  the  propositions 
of  science  have  belonged  to  the  well-to-do  classes,  and 
have  been  so  accustomed  to  those  advantageous  conditions 
amidst  which  they  hve  that  they  do  not  even  admit  the 
idea  that  society  could  exist  outside  these  conditions. 

But  the  conditions  of  life  to  which  the  men  of  the  well- 
to-do  classes  have  become  accustomed  are  that  abundant 
production  of  various  objects  necessary  for  their  comforts 
and  pleasures  which  are  obtained  only,  thanks  to  the  now 
existing  factories  and  plants,  as  they  are  arranged  at  the 
present  time.  And  so,  in  discussing  the  amelioration  of 
the  working  people's  condition,  the  men  of  science,  who 
belong  to  the  well-to-do  classes,  always  assume  only  an 


22  THE   SLAVEEY    OF    OUR   TIME 

amelioration  such  that  the  production  of  the  factories  will 
remain  the  same,  and  so  the  comforts  of  hfe  which  they 
will  enjoy  will  also  remain  the  same. 

Even  the  most  advanced  men  of  science,  the  socialists, 
in  demanding  a  complete  transference  of  the  implements 
of  production  to  the  working  people,  assume  that  the 
production  of  the  same  or  nearly  the  same  articles  as  at 
present  will  be  continued  in  the  same  or  similar  factories 
with  the  present  division  of  labour. 

According  to  their  conception,  there  will  be  only  this 
difference,  that  then  it  will  not  be  they  alone,  but  also 
everybody  else,  who  will  enjoy  those  comforts  which 
they  are  now  enjoying  all  by  themselves.  They  have  a 
dim  idea  that  with  the  socialization  of  the  implements  of 
labour  they  themselves,  the  men  of  science  and,  in  gen- 
eral, the  men  of  the  ruling  classes,  will  have  a  share  in 
work,  but  for  the  most  part  in  the  shape  of  managers, — 
as  draughtsmen,  scholars,  artists.  But  they  preserve  silence 
as  to  who  will  make  white  lead  with  muzzles  on  their 
faces,  who  will' be  the  stokers,  the  miners,  and  the  privy- 
cleaners,  or  they  assume  that  all  these  things  will  be  so 
perfected  that  even  the  work  in  the  sewers  and  under- 
ground will  form  a  pleasant  occupation.  Thus  they  pre- 
sent to  themselves  the  economic  life  both  in  the  Utopias, 
like  the  Utopia  of  Bellamy,  and  in  learned  treatises: 

According  to  their  theory,  the  working  people,  having 
all  united  into  unions  and  societies,  and  having  educated 
solidarity  in  themselves,  will  finally,  by  means  of  unions, 
strikes,  and  participation  in  parliaments,  arrive  at  this, 
that  they  will  get  possession  of  all  the  implements  of 
production,  including  the  land ;  and  then  they  will  feed 
so  well,  will  dress  so  well,  will  enjoy  such  amusements 
on  Sundays,  that  they  will  prefer  life  in  the  city,  amidst 
stones  and  chimneys,  to  the  life  in  the  country,  in  the 
broad  expanse,  amidst  plants  and  domestic  animals,  and 
will  prefer  the  monotonous  machine  work,  according  to 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  23 

the  whistle,  to  the  varied,  healthful,  and  free  agricultural 
labour. 

Though  this  assumption  is  as  little  probable  as  the 
assumption  of  the  theologians  concerning  that  heaven 
which  the  working  people  will  enjoy  in  the  world  to 
come  for  having  worked  so  painfully  in  this  w^orld,  intel- 
Hgeut  and  cultured  men  of  our  circle  none  the  less  be- 
heve  in  this  strange  doctrine,  just  as  former  learned  and 
intelligent  people  used  to  believe  in  a  heaven  for  the 
working  people  in  the  world  to  come. 

The  learned  and  their  disciples  —  people  of  the  well- 
to-do  classes — believe  in  this,  because  they  cannot  help 
believing  in  it.  They  are  confronted  with  a  dilemma: 
either  they  must  see  that  everything  which  they  enjoy 
in  their  life,  from  the  railroad  to  matches  and  cigarettes,  is 
their  brothers'  labour,  which  has  cost  many  human  lives, 
and  that  they,  by  not  participating  in  this  labour,  but 
enjoying  it,  are  very  dishonest  people,  or  that  everything 
which  takes  place  is  done  according  to  invariable  laws  of 
economic  science  for  the  general  welfare.  In  this  is  con- 
tained that  inner  psychological  cause,  which  compels  the 
men  of  science,  wise  and  cultured,  but  not  enlightened 
men,  with  assurance  and  insistence  to  assert  such  an  ob- 
vious untruth  as  that  it  is  better  for  the  good  of  the 
labourers  to  abandon  their  happy  and  healthy  life  amidst 
nature  and  to  go  to  ruin  their  bodies  and  souls  in  facto- 
ries and  plants. 


But  even  if  we  admit  the  obviously  unjust  assertion, 
which  is  contrary  to  all  the  properties  of  human  nature, 
that  it  is  better  for  people  to  live  and  work  in  factories 
and  cities,  doing  mechanical  slave  work,  than  to  live  in 
the  country  and  do  free  manual  labour,  —  even  if  we 
admit  all  that,  the  very  ideal,  toward  which,  according 
to  the  teaching  of  the  men  of  science,  the  economic  evo- 


24  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

lution  leads,  contains  such  an  internal  contradiction  as 
can  in  no  way  be  disentangled.  This  ideal  consists  in 
this,  that  the  working  people,  having  become  the  masters 
of  all  the  implements  of  production,  will  enjoy  all  those 
comforts  and  pleasures  which  are  now  enjoyed  only  by 
well-to-do  people.  All  will  be  well  dressed  and  housed 
and  fed,  will  walk  over  an  asphalt  pavement  under 
electric  lights,  will  attend  concerts  and  theatres,  read 
newspapers  and  books,  will  go  out  driving  in  motors,  and 
so  forth.  But  for  all  men  to  use  certain  articles,  it  is 
necessary  to  redistribute  the  manufacture  of  desirable 
articles,  to  determine  how  much  time  each  working  man 
is  to  work  :  how  is  this  to  be  determined  ? 

Statistical  data  may  determine  (very  imperfectly  at 
that)  men's  needs  in  a  society  which  is  fettered  by  capi- 
talism, competition,  and  want ;  but  no  statistical  data 
will  show  how  many  and  what  articles  are  necessary  for 
the  gratification  of  the  needs  of  a  society,  in  which  the 
implements  of  production  will  belong  to  society  itself, 
that  is,  where  men  will  be  free. 

It  will  be  absolutely  impossible  to  determine  the  needs 
in  such  a  society,  because  the  needs  will  in  such  a  society 
always  be  infinitely  greater  than  the  possibility  of  grati- 
fying them.  Everybody  will  desire  to  liave  everything 
which  the  rich  now  have,  and  so  there  is  no  possibility 
of  determining  the  quantity  of  articles  needed  by  such  a 
society. 

Besides,  how  can  people  be  made  to  agree  to  produce 
articles  which  some  of  them  will  consider  necessary, 
while  others  will  consider  them  unnecessary  or  even  quite 
harmful  ? 

If  it  shall  be  found  that  for  the  gratification  of  the 
needs  of  society  it  will  be  necessary  for  every  person  to 
work,  say,  six  hours  a  day,  who  will  compel  a  man  in  a 
free  society  to  work  these  six  hours  when  he  knows  that 
some    of    the    hours    are    used    for    the    production    of 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  25 

articles  which  he  considers  unnecessary  and  even  harm- 
ful ?  - 

There  is  no  doubt  that  with  the  present  structure  of 
society  they  produce  with  a  great  economy  of  forces, 
thauks  to  machines  and,  above  all,  to  the  division  of 
labour,  extremely  comphcated,  most  varied  articles,  which 
are  carried  to  the  highest  degree  of  perfection,  the  produc- 
tion of  which  is  advantageous  to  their  masters,  and  the 
use  of  which  we  find  very  convenient  and  agreeable ;  but 
the  fact  that  these  articles  are  in  themselves  well  done 
and  with  a  small  waste  of  energy,  and  that  we  find  them 
indispensable  for  ourselves,  does  not  prove  that  free  people 
would  %vithout  constraint  produce  the  same  articles.  There 
is  no  doubt  but  that  Krupp  with  the  present  division  of 
labour  makes  beautiful  cannon  in  a  short  time  and  in 

an  artistic  manner,  and  that  N similarly  produces 

coloured  silk  stuffs,  and  S perfumes,  smooth  cards, 

face-powder,  which  saves  the  complexion,  and  Popov 
delicious  whiskey,  and  so  forth,  —  that  this  is  very  advan- 
tageous, both  for  the  proprietors  of  the  establishments 
where  they  are  produced  and  for  the  consumers  of  them. 
But  cannon,  perfume,  and  whiskey  are  desirable  for  those 
who  want  to  conquer  the  Chinese  markets,  or  like  drunk- 
enness, or  are  interested  in  the  preservation  of  the  com- 
plexion, and  there  will  always  be  some  people  who  will 
find  the  production  of  these  articles  injurious.  And,  to 
say  nothing  of  such  articles,  there  will  always  be  some 
people  who  will  find  that  exhibitions,  academies,  beer, 
meat,  are  unnecessary  and  even  harmful.  How  are  these 
men  to  be  compelled  to  take  part  in  the  production  of 
such  articles  ? 

But  even  if  people  shall  find  a  means  for  having  all 
men  agree  to  manufacture  certain  articles, —  though  there 
can  be  no  such  means  except  compulsion,  —  who  will  in 
a  free  society,  without  capitalistic  production,  without 
competition  or  supply  and  demand,  determine  upon  what 


26  THE    SLAVEEY    OF    OUR   TIME 

articles  the  forces  are  chiefly  to  be  directed  ?  what  is  to 
be  produced  first,  what  later  ?  Are  they  first  to  build  a 
Siberian  road  and  fortify  Port  Arthur,  and  then  lay  out 
a  highway  through  the  counties,  or  vice  versa?  Which 
is  to  be  provided  for  first,  —  electric  lights  or  the  irriga- 
tion of  the  fields  ?  And  then  again  the  insoluble  question 
in  connection  with  the  freedom  of  the  working  people  as 
to  who  shall  do  this  or  that  work.  Obviously,  it  will  be 
most  pleasant  for  all  people  to  busy  themselves  with  the 
sciences  or  with  drawing,  rather  than  to  be  a  stoker  or  a 
privy-cleaner.  How  can  people  be  made  happy  in  this 
distribution  ? 

No  statistical  data  will  answer  these  questions.  There 
can  be  but  a  theoretical  solution  to  these  questions,  that 
is,  such  a  solution  as  that  there  will  be  men  to  whom  the 
power  will  be  given  to  manage  all  that.  One  set  of  men 
will  decide  these  questions,  and  other  men  will  obey 
them. 

But,  in  addition  to  the  question  of  the  division  and 
direction  of  production  and  the  choice  of  work  in  the 
socialization  of  the  implements  of  production,  there  appears 
also  the  chief  question,  —  as  to  the  degree  of  the  division 
of  labour  which  may  be  established  in  a  society  which  is 
organized  on  socialistic  principles.  The  present  division 
of  labour  is  conditioned  by  the  wants  of  the  working 
people.  A  workman  agrees  to  live  all  his  life  under 
ground,  or  all  his  life  to  produce  one-hundredth  part  of 
a  certain  article,  or  all  his  hfe  monotonously  to  swing  his 
arms  amidst  a  rumble  of  machines,  only  because  without 
that  he  will  not  have  any  means  of  support.  But  a  work- 
man who  shall  be  in  possession  of  the  implements  of 
production,  and  who,  therefore,  will  not  be  suffering  want, 
will  only  through  compulsion  agree  to  enter  into  condi- 
tions of  the  division  of  labour  which  dull  and  kill  all  the 
mental  capacities  and  under  which  people  work  now. 
The   division   of    labour  is  unquestionably    very    advan-.- 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  27 

tageous  and  proper  for  people,  but,  if  men  are  free,  the 
division  of  labour  is  possible  only  to  a  certain  narrow 
limit,  which  has  long  ago  been  crossed  in  our  society. 

If  one  peasant  from  preference  plies  the  shoemaker's 
trade,  while  his  wife  attends  to  the  loom,  and  another 
peasant  ploughs,  and  a  third  peasant  works  in  the  smithy, 
and  all  of  them,  having  acquired  exceptional  agility  in 
their  work,  later  exchange  their  products,  such  a  division 
is  advantageous  for  all  of  them,  and  free  people  will 
naturally  thus  divide  their  labour  among  themselves. 
But  a  division  of  labour  under  which  a  mechanic  all  his 
life  produces  one-hundredth  part  of  an  article,  or  a  stoker 
in  a  foundry  works  in  a  temperature  of  fifty  degrees 
Reaumur  or  in  noxious  gases  which  choke  him,  is  disad- 
vantageous for  men,  because,  while  producing  the  most 
trifhng  articles,  it  ruins  the  most  precious  article,  man's 
life.  Consequently  the  division  of  labour  which  now 
exists  can  exist  only  under  compulsion.  Eodbertus  says 
that  the  division  of  labour  unites  humanity  communisti- 
cally.  That  is  true,  but  it  is  only  the  free  division  of 
labour,  that  is,  such  that  people  of  their  own  free  will 
divide  the  labour,  that  unites  humanity.  If  people  decide 
to  build  a  road,  and  one  man  digs,  another  hauls  rock,  a 
third  breaks  rock,  and  so  forth,  such  a  division  of  labour 
unites  men.  But  if  a  strategic  railway,  or  an  Eiffel  tower, 
or  all  those  foolish  things  with  which  the  Paris  Exposi- 
tion is  full,  are  built  independently  of  the  desire  and  fre- 
quently even  contrary  to  the  desire  of  the  working  people, 
—  and  one  labourer  is  compelled  to  mine  the  ore,  another 
to  haul  coal,  a  third  to  smelt  this  ore,  a  fourth  to  cut 
down  trees  and  square  them,  none  of  them  having  the 
slightest  idea  of  the  purpose  of  the  articles  prepared  by 
them,  such  a  division  of  labour  not  only  does  not  unite 
them,  but,  on  the  contrary,  disunites  them. 

And  so,  if  people  will  be  free  in  the  socialization  of 
the  implements  of  labour,  they  will  accept  only  such  a 


28  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

division  of  labour  that  the  good  of  this  division  will  be 
greater  than  the  evil  which  it  will  cause  the  labourer. 

And  since  every  man  naturally  sees  his  good  in  the 
expansion  and  diversity  of  his  activity,  the  now  existing 
division  of  labour  will  naturally  be  impossible  in  a  free 
society. 

And  as  soon  as  the  present  division  of  labour  shall  be 
changed,  there  will  also  be  diminished  (to  a  very  great 
extent)  the  very  production  of  those  articles  which  we 
now  use,  and  which,  it  is  assumed,  all  society  will  use  in 
the  socialistic  state. 

The  assumption  that  with  the  socialization  of  the 
implements  of  production  there  will  be  the  same  abun- 
dance of  articles  as  is  produced  under  the  compulsory 
division  of  labour,  is  like  the  assumption  that  with  the 
liberation  of  the  serfs  there  would  remain  the  same 
domestic  orchestras,  gardens,  rugs,  lace,  theatres,  which 
used  to  be  produced  by  the  serfs.  Thus  the  assumption 
that  with  the  realization  of  the  socialistic  ideal  all  men 
will  be  free  and,  at  the  same  time,  will  enjoy  everything, 
or  almost  everything,  w^hich  the  well-to-do  classes  now 
enjoy,  contains  an  obvious  hiner  contradiction. 


The  same  is  here  repeated  that  existed  in  the  times  of 
the  serf  law.  As  then  the  majority  of  the  serf-owners 
and  of  the  well-to-do  classes  in  general,  though  recogniz- 
ing the  condition  of  the  serfs  as  not  entirely  good,  pro- 
posed for  its  impiovement  only,  such  changes  as  would 
not  impair  the  chief  advantage  of  the  landed  proprietor, 
even  so  the  men  of  the  well-to-do  classes,  though  recog- 
nizing the  condition  of  the  working  people  as  not  quite 
good,  now  propose  for  its  improvement  only  such  meas- 
ures as  do  not  impair  the  advantageous  position  of  the 
men  of  the  well-to-do  classes.     As  then  a  well-disposed 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  29 

proprietor  talked  of  paternal  power  and,  like  Gogol,  advised 
the  proprietors  to  be  good  and  to  care  for  their  serfs,  but 
did  not  even  admit  the  idea  of  the  emancipation  which 
presented  itself  to  him  as  harmful  and  dangerous,  so  also 
now  the  majority  of  the  well-to-do  people  of  our  time 
advise  the  masters  to  care  more  for  the  good  of  their 
workmen,  but  equally  do  not  even  admit  the  idea  of  such 
a  change  of  the  economic  structure  of  life  as  would  make 
the  working  people  entirely  free. 

And  just  as  then  the  advanced  liberals,  recognizing  the 
condition  of  the  serfs  to  be  unchangeable,  demanded  of 
the  state  the  limitation  of  the  masters'  power  and  sym- 
pathized with  the  agitation  of  the  serfs,  so  now  the 
liberals  of  our  time,  recognizing  the  existing  order  as 
invariable,  demand  of  the  government  the  limitation  of 
the  capitalists  and  manufacturers,  and  sympathize  witli 
the  unions,  the  strikes,  and  in  general  the  agitation  of  the 
working  people.  And  just  as  then  the  most  advanced 
people  demanded  the  emancipation  of  the  serfs,  but  in  the 
project  left  them  in  dependence  on  the  landowners,  or  on 
corv^es  and  taxes,  so  now  the  most  advanced  men  demand 
the  liberation  of  the  working  people  from  the  capital- 
ists, the  socialization  of  the  implements  of  production, 
but  with  all  that  leave  the  working  people  in  dependence 
on  the  present  distribution  and  division  of  labour,  which, 
in  their  opinion,  must  remain  invariable.  The  teaching  of 
economic  science,  which  is  followed  without  a  comprehen- 
sion of  its  details  by  all  the  well-to-do  people  who  con- 
sider themselves  enlightened  and  advanced,  at  a  superficial 
glance  appears  liberal,  even  radical,  in  that  it  contains 
attacks  upon  the  rich  classes  of  society,  but  in  its  essence 
this  teaching  is  in  the  highest  degree  conservative,  coarse, 
and  cruel.  In  one  way  or  another  the  men  of  science, 
and  with  them  all  the  well-to-do  classes,  want  by  all 
means  to  retain  the  nov^r  existing  distribution  and  division 
of  labour,  which  make  it  possible  to  produce  the  large 


30  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

quantity  of  articles  used  by  them.  The  existing  eco- 
nomic structure  the  men  of  science,  and  with  them  all 
the  men  of  the  well-to-do  classes,  call  civilization,  and 
they  see  in  this  civilization  —  the  railways,  telegraphs, 
telephones,  photographs,  Ecintgen  rays,  clinics,  exhibi- 
tions, and,  above  everything  else,  all  the  appliances  of 
comfort  —  something  so  sacred  that  they  do  not  even 
admit  the  idea  of  changes  which  may  destroy  all  that  or 
even  a  small  part  of  these  acquisitions.  Everything  may, 
according  to  the  teaching  of  that  science,  be  changed, 
except  what  they  call  civilization.  Meanwhile  it  becomes 
more  and  more  evident  that  this  civilization  can  exist 
only  by  compelling  the  working  men  to  work.  But  the 
men  of  science  are  so  convinced  that  this  civilization  is 
the  highest  good  that  they  boldly  say  the  very  opposite 
of  what  the  jurists  used  once  to  say  :  instead  of  "  Fiat  jus- 
titia,  pereat  mundus"  they  now  say,  "  Fiat  adtura,  2}ercat 
justitia."  They  not  only  say  so,  but  even  act  so.  Every- 
thing may  be  changed  in  practice  and  in  theory,  except 
civilization,  —  except  all  that  which  takes  place  in  foun- 
dries and  factories  and,  above  all  things,  is  sold  in  shops. 

But  I  think  that  enlightened  men,  who  profess  the 
Christian  law  of  brotherhood  and  love  of  their  neighbours, 
ought  to  say  the  very  opposite : 

"  It  is  all  very  nice  to  have  electric  illumination,  tele- 
phones, expositions,  and  all  the  Arcadian  Gardens  with 
their  concerts  and  shows,  and  all  the  cigars,  and  match- 
boxes, and  suspenders,  and  motors ;  but  may  they  go  to 
perdition,  and  not  only  they,  but  also  the  railways  and  all 
the  calico  and  cloth  factories  in  the  world,  if  for  their 
production  it  is  necessary  that  ninety-nine  hundredths  of 
men  should  be  in  slavery  and  should  perish  by  the  thou- 
sand in  factories  which  are  necessary  for  the  production  of 
these  articles.  If,  to  light  London  or  St.  Petersburg  with 
electricity,  or  to  erect  the  structures  of  an  exhiliition,  or 
to  produce  beautiful  dyes,  or  to  get  beautiful  stuffs  woven 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  31 

quickly  and  in  great  quantity,  it  is  necessary  that  the 
smallest  number  of  Hves  should  perish  or  be  contracted  or 
ruined  (and  statistics  show  us  how  many  of  them  perish), 
then  let  London  and  St.  Petersburg  be  lighted  by  gas  or 
oil,  let  there  be  no  exhibitions,  let  there  be  no  dyes,  no 
stuffs,  so  long  as  there  shall  be  no  slavery  and  the  ruiu 
of  human  lives  resulting  from  it." 

Truly  enlightened  people  will  always  prefer  to  return  to 
travelling  on  horseback  and  on  bales  and  even  to  digging 
the  ground  with  sticks  and  hands,  rather  than  travel  on 
railways,  which  regularly  kill  so  many  people  each 
year,  only  because  the  owners  of  the  roads  find  it  more 
profitable  to  pay  damages  to  the  families  of  the  killed 
than  to  build  the  roads  in  such  a  way  that  they  will  not 
kill  so  many  people,  as  is  the  case  in  Chicago.  The 
motto  of  truly  enlightened  men  is  not  "  Fiat  culfura, 
pereat  justitia"  but  "  Fiat  justitia,  pereat  cultura" 

But  civilization,  the  useful  civilization,  will  not  be 
destroyed.  People  will  never  have  any  occasion  to  return 
to  digging  the  ground  with  sticks  and  lighting  up  their 
houses  with  chips.  Not  in  vain  has  humanity  with  its 
servile  structure  made  such  great  progress  in  the  technical 
arts. 

If  men  shall  come  to  understand  that  it  is  not  right  for 
their  pleasure  to  exploit  the  lives  of  their  brothers,  they 
will  find  out  how  to  apply  all  the  discoveries  of  mechanics 
in  such  a  way  as  not  to  ruin  the  lives  of  their  brothers, 
will  know  how  to  arrange  life  in  such  a  way  as  to  use  all 
the  perfected  instruments  for  the  subjugation  of  nature 
they  can  use,  without  retaining  their  brothers  in  slavery. 


8 

Let  us  imagine  a  man  from  an  entirely  foreign  country 
who  has  no  idea  about  our  history  and  our  laws,  and  let 
us  show  him  our  life  in  all  its  manifestations  and  ask 


32  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

him  what  chief  difference  he  observes  iu  the  manner  of 
life  of  the  men  of  our  world. 

The  chief  difference  in  the  manner  of  life  of  the  men 
to  which  he  will  point  will  be  this,  that  some  —  a  sn)all 
number  of  men  —  with  clean  white  hands  are  well  fed, 
clothed,  and  housed,  work  very  little  and  at  something 
easy,  or  not  at  all,  and  only  amuse  themselves,  wasting 
on  these  amusements  millions  of  hard  working  days  of 
other  men  ;  while  others,  always  dirty  and  poorly  clad, 
poorly  housed,  and  poorly  fed,  with  dirty,  callus-covered 
hands,  work  without  cessation  from  morning  until  eve- 
ning, at  times  through  the  nights,  for  those  who  do  not 
work,  but  amuse  themselves  all  the  time. 

If  it  is  hard  between  the  slaves  and  the  slave-owners 
of  the  present  time  to  draw  as  sharp  a  line  as  the  one 
which  separated  the  former  slaves  from  the  slave-owners, 
and  if  among  the  slaves  of  our  time  there  are  such  as  are 
only  temporarily  slaves  and  later  become  slave-owners,  or 
such  as  at  the  same  time  are  slaves  and  slave-owners, 
this  mingling  of  the  two  at  their  points  of  contact  does 
not  weaken  the  truth  of  the  proposition  that  all  the  men 
of  our  time  are  divided  into  slaves  and  masters,  just  as 
definitely  as,  in  spite  of  the  twilight,  the  twenty-four 
hours  are  divided  into  day  and  night. 

If  a  slave-owner  of  our  time  has  not  an  Ivan  whom  he 
can  send  into  a  privy  to  clean  out  his  excrements,  he  has 
three  roubles  which  are  so  much  wanted  by  hundreds  of 
Ivans,  that  he  can  choose  any  one  out  of  a  hundred  Ivans 
and  appear  as  a  benefactor  to  him,  because  he  has  chosen 
him  out  of  the  whole  number  and  has  permitted  him  to 
climb  into  the  cesspool. 

The  slaves  of  our  time  are  not  merely  all  those  factory 
and  foundry  hands  who,  to  exist,  are  obliged  to  sell  them- 
selves into  the  full  possession  of  the  masters  of  factories 
and  foundries;  such  slaves  are  also  nearly  all  those 
agriculturists  who,  without  rest,   work  in  other  people's 


THE   SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  33 

fields,  taking  other  people's  corn  to  other  people's  gran- 
aries, or  who  work  their  own  fields,  only  to  be  able  to  pay 
interest  on  unextinguishable  debts  to  tlie  bankers;  and 
just  such  slaves  are  all  those  numerous  lackeys,  cooks, 
chambermaids,  janitors,  coachmen,  bath  servants,  waiters, 
and  so  forth,  who  all  their  lives  perform  duties  which  are 
most  improper  to  a  human  being  and  contrary  to  their 
own  natures. 

Slavery  exists  in  full  force,  but  we  do  not  recognize  it, 
just  as  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  people  did 
not  recognize  the  slavery  of  serfdom. 

The  men  of  that  time  believed  that  the  state  of  the 
people  who  were  obliged  to  work  the  land  of  their  masters 
and  to  obey  them,  was  a  natural,  inevitable  condition  of 
life,  and  did  not  call  that  state  slavery. 

The  same  is  true  among  us :  the  men  of  our  time 
regard  the  state  of  the  working  men  as  a  natural,  inevi- 
table economic  condition,  and  do  not  call  this  state 
slavery. 

And,  as  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  men 
of  Europe  began  slowly  to  see  that  the  condition  of  the 
peasants  w^ho  were  in  the  full  power  of  their  masters, 
though  formerly  it  had  seemed  to  be  a  natural  and  inevi- 
table form  of  economic  life,  was  bad,  unjust,  and  immoral, 
and  demanded  a  change,  so  now  the  people  of  our  time 
begin  to  understand  that  the  state  of  hired  men  and  of 
working  people  in  general,  which  formerly  used  to  be 
regarded  as  absolutely  legal  and  normal,  is  not  such  as  it 
ought  to  be,  and  demands  a  change, 

.  The  slavery  of  our  time  is  now  precisely  in  the  same 
phase  in  which  the  serf  law  was  in  Europe  at  the  end 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  serfdom  in  Russia  and 
slavery  in  America  were  in  the  second  quarter  of  the 
nineteenth  century. 

The  slavery  of  the  working  people  of  our  time  is  just 
beginning  to  be  recognized  by  the  advanced  men  of  our 


34  THE    SLAVERY    OF   OUR   TIME 

society,  but  the  majority  of  people  are  still  fully  convinced 
that  there  is  no  slavery  among  us. 

The  men  of  our  time  are  supported  in  this  wrong  idea 
of  their  condition  by  the  circumstance  that  we  have  just 
abolished  slavery  in  Eussia  and  America.  In  reahty  the 
abolition  of  serfdom  and  slavery  was  only  the  abolition 
of  an  obsolete,  useless  form  of  slavery,  and  the  substitu- 
tion for  it  of  a  more  substantial  form  of  slavery  which 
embraced  a  greater  number  of  slaves  than  formerly.  The 
abolition  of  serfage  and  slavery  was  very  much  like  what 
the  Crimean  Tartars  did  with  their  captives,  when  they 
decided  to  cut  open  the  soles  of  their  feet  and  fill  the 
rents  with  chopped  bristles.  After  performing  this  opera- 
tion upon  them,  they  took  off  their  fetters  and  chains. 
Though  the  abolition  of  serfage  in  Eussia  and  slavery  in 
America  did  away  with  the  older  form  of  servitude,  it 
was,  indeed,  accomplished  only  when  the  bristles  in  the 
soles  had  created  ulcers,  and  there  was  an  absolute  cer- 
tainty that  the  captives  would  not  run  away  even  with- 
out fetters  and  chains,  and  would  go  on  working.  (The 
Northerners  in  America  boldly  demanded  the  abolition  of 
the  old  slavery,  because  a  new,  the  financial  slavery,  had 
already  obviously  taken  possession  of  the  people,  while 
the  Southerners  did  not  yet  see  the  obvious  signs  of  the 
new  slavery  and  so  did  not  care  to  abohsh  the  old 
slavery.) 

With  us,  in  Eussia,  serfage  was  abolished  only  when 
all  the  land  was  already  taken  up.  If  land  was  given  to 
the  peasants,  taxes  were  imposed  upon  them,  to  take  the 
place  of  the  land  slavery.  In  Europe  the  taxes  which 
kept  the  people  in  slavery  were  abolished  only  when  the 
people  were  deprived  of  the  land,  made  unaccustomed  to 
agricultural  labour,  and  by  means  of  an  infection  from 
city  needs  placed  in  complete  dependence  on  the  capi- 
talists. It  was  only  then  that  the  corn  taxes  were  abol- 
ished in  England.     Now  they  are  beginning  to  abolish 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  36 

the  taxes  on  the  labourers  in  Germany  and  m  other 
countries,  transferring  them  to  the  rich,  only  because  the 
majority  of  the  people  are  in  the  power  of  the  capitalists. 
One  means  of  enslavement  is  abolished  only  when  another 
has  taken  its  place.  There  are  several  such  means.  If 
not  one,  another,  a  third  means,  or  several  together,  keep 
the  people  in  servitude,  that  is,  put  them  in  such  a  condi- 
tion that  a  few  men  have  full  power  over  the  labours  and 
lives  of  a  greater  number  of  men.  In  this  enslavement 
of  the  greater  part  of  the  people  by  a  smaller  part  does 
the  chief  cause  of  the  wretched  condition  of  the  people 
consist.  For  this  reason  the  means  for  amehorating  the 
condition  of  working  people  must  consist,  in  the  first 
place,  in  recognizing  the  fact  that  slavery  exists  among 
us,  not  in  any  transferred,  metaphorical  sense,  but  in  the 
simple  and  direct  sense  of  the  word,  —  a  slavery  which 
keeps  one  part  of  men,  the  majority,  in  the  power  of  the 
other,  the  minority,  and,  in  the  second  place,  having  rec- 
ognized this  condition,  in  finding  the  causes  of  the  enslave- 
ment of  one  set  of  men  by  others,  and,  in  the  third  place, 
having  found  these  causes,  in  destroying  them. 


In  what,  then,  does  the  slavery  of  our  time  consist  ? 
What  forces  enslave  one  class  of  men  to  another  ?  If  we 
ask  all  the  working  people,  in  Kussia,  in  Europe,  and  in 
America,  both  in  the  factories  and  in  all  kinds  of  hired 
occupations  in  the  cities  and  the  villages,  what  it  is  that 
has  compelled  them  to  choose  the  condition  in  which  they 
are,  —  they  wdll  all  say  that  they  were  brought  to  it  by 
this :  either  that  they  had  no  land  on  which  they  could 
and  would  wish  to  live  and  work  (all  Eussian  working 
men  and  many  European  ones  will  say  so) ;  or  that  taxes, 
both  direct  and  indirect,  are  demanded  of  them,  and  they 
are  not  able  to  pay  them  unless  they  work  for  others ;  or, 


36  THE   SLAVERY   OF    OUR   TIME 

again,  that  they  are  kept  in  the  factories  by  the  tempta- 
tions of  more  luxurious  habits  which  they  have  acquired 
and  which  they  cannot  gratify  except  by  selling  their 
labour  and  their  freedom. 

The  first  two  conditions,  the  lack  of  laud  and  the  taxes, 
drive  the  men,  as  it  were,  into  conditions  of  servitude,  and 
the  third,  the  unsatisfied  increased  needs,  entices  them  into 
these  conditions  and  retains  them  there. 

It  is  possible  to  imagine,  according  to  Henry  George's 
project,  the  emancipation  of  the  land  from  the  right  of 
personal  ownership,  and  thus  the  destruction  of  the  first 
cause  which  drives  people  into  slavery,  —  the  lack  of 
land.  We  can  equally  imagine  the  abolition  of  the  taxes, 
their  transference  to  the  rich,  as  is  actually  done  in  some 
countries ;  but  with  the  present  economic  structure  it  is 
impossible  to  imagine  such  a  state  that  amidst  the  rich 
people  there  would  not  establish  themselves  more  and 
more  luxurious,  frequently  harmful  habits  of  life,  and  that 
these  habits  would  not  by  degrees,  as  inevitably  and  as 
irrepressibly  as  the  water  is  taken  up  by  the  dry  earth, 
pass  over  to  the  working  classes  that  are  contiguous  to 
the  rich,  and  would  not  become  so  necessary  to  the  .work- 
ing classes  that  the  working  people  would  be  prepared  to 
sell  their  freedom,  in  order  to  gratify  them. 

Thus  this  third  condition,  in  spite  of  its  arbitrariness, 
that  is,  in  spite  of  the  apparent  abihty  of  a  man  not  to 
submit  to  the  temptations,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
science  does  not  at  all  recognize  it  as  a  cause  of  the 
wretched  condition  of  the  working  men,  forms  the  most 
permanent  and  most  ineffaceable  cause  of  slavery. 

Living  near  the  rich,  the  working  people  are  always 
infected  by  new  needs  and  gain  the  possibility  of  always 
gratifying  these  needs,  but  only  in  proportion  as  they  give 
the  tensest  labour  for  this  gratification.  Thus  the  work- 
ing people  of  England  and  America,  though  occasionally 
receiving  ten  times  as  much  as  is  needed  for  their  sup- 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  37 

port,  continue  to  be   the  same  slaves   that   they  were 
formerly. 

These  three  causes,  according  to  the  explanation  of  the 
working  people  themselves,  produce  the  slavery  in  which 
they  are ;  and  the  history  of  the  enslavement  of  the  work- 
ing people  and  the  reality  of  their  condition  confirm  the 
justice  of  this  explanation. 

All  the  working  people  are  brought  to  their  present 
state  and  are  retained  in  it  by  these  three  causes.  These 
causes,  acting  upon  people  from  various  sides,  are  such 
that  not  one  man  can  get  away  from  their  enslavement. 
An  agriculturist,  who  has  at  his  command  no  land  what- 
soever or  only  an  insufficient  amount  of  it,  will  always  be 
compelled,  if  he  wants  to  be  able  to  gain  his  sustenance 
from  the  land,  to  give  himself  into  permanent  or  tempo- 
rary slavery  to  him  who  owns  the  land. 

If  he  in  one  way  or  another  acquires  as  much  land  as 
he  needs  to  be  able  to  support  himself  upon  it  with  his 
labour,  taxes  will  be  demanded  of  him  in  a  direct  and  an 
indirect  way,  such  tnat,  to  be  able  to  pay  them,  he  will 
be  obliged  again  to  sell  himself  into  slavery. 

But  if,  to  free  himself  from  the  slavery  of  the  land,  he 
shall  stop  working  the  land  and,  living  on  somebody 
else's  land,  shall  begin  to  ply  some  trade,  exchanging  his 
productions  for  commodities  needed  by  him,  on  the  one 
hand  the  taxes,  and  on  the  other  the  competition  of  the 
capitalists  who  produce  the  same  articles  as  he  does,  but 
with  improved  implements,  will  compel  him  to  sell  him- 
self into  permanent  or  temporary  slavery  to  the  capital- 
ists. But  if,  working  for  a  capitalist,  he  should  be  able 
to  establish  free  relations  with  him,  such  as  would  not 
necessitate  his  giving  up  his  freedom,  the  habits  of  the 
new  needs  inevitably  acquired  by  him  will  compel  him 
to  do  so. 

Thus  the  working  man  will  in  one  way  or  another 
always  be  in  the  slavery  of  those  men  who  possess  the 


38  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

taxes,  the  land,  and  the  commodities  needed  for  the  grati- 
fication of  his  needs. 

10 

The  German  socialists  have  called  the  aggregate  of  con- 
ditions which  subject  the  labourers  to  the  capitalists,  the 
iron  law  of  labour  wages,  meaning  by  the  word  "  iron " 
that  this  law  is  something  invariable.  But  in  these  con- 
ditions there  is  nothing  invariable.  These  conditions  are 
only  the  consequences  of  human  enactments  concerning 
taxes,  concerning  land,  and,  above  all  things,  concerning 
commodities  for  the  gratification  of  needs,  that  is,  concern- 
ing property.  But  enactments  are  established  and  abol- 
ished by  men.  Thus  it  is  not  any  iron,  sociological  laws, 
but  enactments,  that  establish  men's  slavery.  In  the 
given  case  the  slavery  of  our  time  is  very  clearly  and  very 
definitely  produced,  not  by  any  elementary  iron  law,  but 
by  human  enactments  concerning  land,  taxes,  and  prop- 
erty. There  exists  an  enactment  about  this,  that  any 
amount  of  land  may  be  the  subject  of  possession  by  pri- 
vate individuals,  may  pass  from  person  to  person  by  in- 
heritance, bequest,  or  sale  ;  there  exists  another  enactment 
about  this,  that  every  man  must  without  murmuring  pay 
the  taxes  that  are  demanded  of  him  ;  and  there  exists  a 
third  enactment  about  this,  that  any  quantity  of  articles, 
no  matter  in  what  way  acquired,  forms  the  inalienable 
property  of  those  men  who  own  them ;  in  consequence  of 
these  enactments  slavery  exists. 

These  enactments  are  so  habitual  to  us  that  they  pre- 
sent themselves  to  us  as  just  such  natural  conditions  of 
human  life,  of  the  necessity  and  justice  of  which  there 
can  be  no  doubt  whatever,  as  in  antiquity  appeared  to 
be  the  laws  about  serfage  and  slavery,  and  we  do  not 
see  anything  irregular  in  them.  But,  as  there  came  the 
time  when  men,  seeing  the  pernicious  consequences  of 
serfage,  began  to  doubt  the  justice  and  necessity  of  the 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  39 

enactments  which  asserted  it,  so  now,  when  the  pernicious 
consequences  of  the  present  economic  structure  are  obvi- 
ous, one  comes  invohintarily  to  doubt  the  justice  and 
necessity  of  the  enactments  concerning  land,  taxes,  and 
property,  which  produce  these  results. 

As  formerly  they  used  to  ask  whether  it  is  right  that 
men  should  belong  to  others  and  that  these  men  should 
not  have  anything  of  their  own,  but  should  give  all  the 
productions  of  their  labour  to  their  owners,  so  we  should 
ask  ourselves  at  present  whether  it  is  right  that  people 
should  not  be  able  to  use  the  land  which  is  considered  to 
be  the  property  of  other  men ;  whether  it  is  xight  that 
men  should  give  to  others  in  the  shape  of  taxes  those 
portions  of  their  labour  wliich  are  demanded  of  them ; 
whether  it  is  right  that  people  should  not  be  permitted 
to  use  articles  which  are  considered  to  be  the  property 
of  others. 

Is  it  right  that  men  should  not  use  the  land,  when  it  is 
considered  to  be  the  property  of  men  who  do  not  work  it  ? 

It  is  said  that  this  law  established  itself,  because  own- 
ersliip  of  the  land  is  an  indispensable  condition  for  the 
success  of  agriculture,  because,  if  there  did  not  exist 
private  property,  w^hich  passes  down  by  inheritance, 
people  would  be  driving  one  another  away  from  the 
land  seized,  and  no  one  would  work  or  improve  the  plot 
of  land  on  which  he  sits.  Is  this  true  ?  The  answer  to 
this  question  is  given  by  history  and  by  the  present  state 
of  affairs.  History  says  that  the  ownership  of  land  has 
by  no  means  originated  in  the  desire  to  secure  the  posses- 
sion of  the  land,  but  in  the  appropriation  of  the  common 
land  by  the  conc^uerors  and  its  distribution  among  those 
who  served  the  conquerors.  Thus  the  establishment  of 
the  ownership  of  land  did  not  have  for  its  aim  the 
encouragement  of  agriculture.  Now  the  present  state  of 
affairs  shows  us  the  groundlessness  of  the  assertion  that 
the  ownership  of  land   secures  to  the  agriculturists  the 


40  THE    SLAVERY   OF    OUR   TIME 

conviction  that  they  will  not  be  deprived  of  the  land 
which  they  work.  In  reality  the  very  opposite  takes 
place  everywhere.  The  right  of  the  ownership  of  the 
laud,  which  the  large  owners  have  enjoyed  more  than 
any  one  else,  has  had  this  effect,  that  all,  or  nearly  all, 
that  is,  the  vast  majority  of  the  agriculturists,  are  now 
in  the  condition  of  men  who  work  somebody  else's  land, 
from  which  they  may  be  arbitrarily  driven  by  those  who 
do  not  work  it.  Thus  the  existing  right  of  the  owner- 
ship of  the  land  is  l^y  no  means  a  protection  of  the  agri- 
culturist's right  to  the  use  of  that  labour  which  he  puts 
on  the  land,  but,  on  the  contrary,  a  means  for  taking  from 
the  agriculturists  the  land  which  they  work  and  for  trans- 
ferring it  to  those  who  do  not  work  it,  and  so  it  is  in  no 
way  a  means  for  the  encouragement  of  agriculture,  but 
it  is,  on  the  contrary,  a  means  for  deteriorating  it. 

Concerning  the  taxes  it  is  asserted  that  men  must  pay 
them,  because  they  are  estabhshed  by  common,  though 
tacit,  consent,  and  are  used  for  public  needs,  and  for  the 
good  of  all. 

Is  that  true  ? 

The  answer  to  this  question  is  given  by  history  and  by 
the  present  state  of  affairs.  History  says  that  taxes  have 
never  been  established  by  common  consent,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  always  in  consequence  of  this,  that  certain 
men,  having  by  conquest  or  other  means  gained  the 
power  over  other  men,  have  imposed  tribute  upon  them, 
not  for  public  needs,  but  for  themselves.  The  same 
thing  is  done  even  at  the  present  time.  The  taxes  are 
collected  by  those  who  have  the  power  to  do  so.  If  now 
a  part  of  this  tribute,  called  taxes  and  imposts,  is  used 
for  public  works,  these  public  works  are  for  the  most  part 
harmful,  rather  than  useful,  to  the  majority  of  men. 

Thus,  for  example,  one-third  of  the  people's  income  is 
taken  away  from  the  people  in  Russia,  but  for  the  chief 
need,  for  the  people's  education,  only  one-fiftieth  of  the 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  41 

whole  income  is  used,  and  this,  too,  for  such  education 
as  rather  stuhifies  and  harms  the  people  tlian  does  them 
any  good.  The  remaining  forty-nine  iiftieths  are  used 
for  things  that  are  useless  or  injurious  for  the  people, 
such  as  the  arming  of  soldiers,  strategic  roads,  fortresses, 
prisons,  the  maintenance  of  the  clerg}"  and  the  courts, 
salaries  for  mihtary  and  civil  officials,  that  is,  for  the 
support  of  those  men  who  aid  in  the  seizure  of  the  money 
from  the  people. 

The  same  thing  takes  place,  not  only  in  Persia,  Turkey, 
and  India,  hut  also  in  all  the  Christian,  constitutional 
governments  and  democratic  republics :  the  money  is 
taken  from  the  masses  of  the  people,  —  not  as  much 
as  is  wanted,  but  as  much  as  can  be  taken  from  them,  — 
and  quite  independently  of  the  consent  of  the  taxed 
(everybody  knows  how  the  parhaments  are  made  up  and 
how  little  they  represent  the  will  of  the  people),  and  is 
not  used  for  the  common  good,  but  for  what  the  ruling 
classes  deem  best :  for  the  war  in  Cuba  and  the  Philip- 
pines, for  the  seizure  and  retention  of  the  wealth  of  the 
Transvaal,  and  so  forth.  Thus  the  explanation  given 
that  people  must  pay  taxes,  because  they  are  established 
by  common  consent  and  are  used  for  the  common  good, 
is  as  untrue  as  the  other  assertion  that  the  ownership  of 
land  was  established  for  the  purpose  of  encouraging 
agriculture. 

Is  it  right  that  people  should  not  use  articles  which 
they  wane  for  the  gratification  of  their  needs,  if  these 
articles  form  the  property  of  other  men  ? 

It  is  asserted  that  the  right  of  the  ownership  of  articles 
acquired  was  established  for  the  purpose  of  securing  the 
working  man  against  the  seizure  of  the  productions  of 
his  labour  by  any  one  else. 

Is  that  true  ? 

We  need  only  look  at  what  is  going  on  in  our  world, 
where  such  ownership  is  protected  with  especial  care,  to 


42  THE    SLAVERY   OF    OITR   TIME 

convince  ourselves  to  what  extent  the  actuality  of  our 
life  does  not  confirm  this  explanation. 

In  consequence  of  the  right  of  ownership  of  acquired 
articles,  there  is  in  our  society  taking  place  precisely 
what  this  right  intends  to  avoid,  namely,  all  the  articles 
which  have  been  produced  by  the  working  people  are,  in 
proportion  as  they  are  produced,  constantly  taken  away 
from  those  who  produce  them. 

Thus  the  assertion  that  the  right  of  ownership  secures 
to  the  working  people  the  possibility  of  enjoying  the  pro- 
ductions of  their  labour  is  obviously  still  more  unjust 
than  the  justification  of  the  ownership  of  land,  and  is 
based  on  the  same  sophism.  At  first  the  working  peo- 
ple are  unjustly  and  violently  deprived  of  the  productions 
of  their  labour,  and  then  the  laws  are  enacted,  according 
to  which  these  productions,  which  were  unjustly  and  vio- 
lently seized  from  the  working  people,  are  recognized  as 
an  inalienable  possession  of  the  usurpers. 

The  ownership  of  a  factory,  for  example,  which  is  ac- 
quired by  a  series  of  deceits  and  rascalities  committed 
against  the  working  people,  is  considered  to  be  a  product  of 
labour  and  is  called  a  sacred  ownership ;  but  the  lives 
of  those  working  people,  who  perish  in  working  in  this 
factory,  and  their  labour  are  not  considered  to  be  their 
property,  but  are,  as  it  were,  considered  to  be  the  prop- 
erty of  the  manufacturer,  if  he,  exploiting  the  want  of 
the  working  people,  has  bound  them  in  a  manner  which 
is  regarded  as  legal. 

Hundreds  of  thousands  of  puds  of  corn  collected  by 
means  of  usury  and  a  series  of  exactions  from  the  peas- 
ants, are  considered  to  be  the  property  of  the  merchant; 
but  the  corn  raised  by  the  peasants  on  the  land  is  con- 
sidered to  be  the  property  of  another  man,  if  this  man 
has  received  the  land  as  an  inheritance  from  his  grand- 
father and  great-grandfather,  who  took  it  away  from  the 
people.     It  is  said  that  the  law  protects  equally  the  prop- 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME  43 

erty  of  the  owner  of  a  factory,  the  capitalist,  the  land- 
owner, and  the  factory  hand  and  agricultural  labourer. 
The  equality  of  the  capitahst  and  the  labourer  is  the 
same  as  the  equality  of  two  fighters,  when  the  hands  of 
one  are  bound,  while  a  gun  is  put  into  the  hands  of  the 
other,  and  equal  conditions  are  strictly  observed  for  both 
in  the  fight.  Thus  all  the  explanations  of  the  justice  and 
indispensableness  of  those  three  enactments  which  pro- 
duce slavery  are  as  incorrect  as  were  the  explanations  of 
the  justice  and  indispensableness  of  the  former  serfage. 
All  three  enactments  are  nothing  but  the  establishment 
of  that  new  form  of  slavery  which  has  taken  the  place  of 
the  older  slavery.  As  formerly  the  establishment  of  enact- 
ments as  to  this,  that  men  might  buy  and  sell  people  and 
own  them,  and  might  compel  them  to  work,  was  slavery ; 
so  now  the  establishment  of  the  enactments  as  to  this, 
that  men  cannot  use  the  land  which  is  considered  to 
be  the  property  of  another,  must  pay  the  taxes  demanded 
of  them,  and  cannot  use  the  articles  which  are  considered 
to  be  somebody  else's  property,  is  the  slavery  of  our 
time. 

11 

The  slavery  of  our  time  is  due  to  three  enactments,  — 
concerning  land,  concerning  taxes,  and  concerning  prop- 
erty. And  so  all  the  attempts  of  men  who  wish  to  im- 
prove the  condition  of  the  working  people  are  of  necessity, 
though  unconsciously,  directed  to  these  three  enactments. 

Some  abolish  the  taxes  w^hich  weigh  upon  the  working 
people,  by  transferring  them  to  the  rich ;  others  propose 
to  do  away  with  the  right  of  the  ownership  of  land,  and 
there  have  been  made  attempts  at  realizing  this,  in  New 
Zealand  and  in  one  of  the  States  of  America  (an  approach 
to  it  is  also  the  limitation  of  the  right  to  dispose  of  the 
land  in  Ireland) ;  others  again,  the  sociahsts,  assuming 
the  socialization  of  the  implements  of  labour,  propose  the 


44  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME 

taxing  of  incomes,  and  inheritances,  and  the  limitation  of 
the  rights  of  the  capitalists,  —  the  speculators.  It  would 
seem  that  those  very  enactments  which  produce  slavery  are 
being  abolished,  aud  that  we  may  on  this  path  expect  the 
abolition  of  slavery  itself.  But  we  need  only  look  more 
closely  at  the  conditions  under  which  the  abolition  of 
these  enactments  is  accomplished  and  proposed,  in  order 
to  become  convinced  that  all,  not  only  practical,  but  even 
theoretical  projects  for  the  improvement  of  the  working 
men's  condition,  are  only  the  substitution  for  one  set  of 
enactments,  which  produce  slavery,  of  other  enactmeuts, 
which  establish  the  new  forms  of  slavery.  Thus,  for  ex- 
ample, those  who  do  away  with  the  taxes  and  imposts 
levied  on  the  poor,  by  first  abolishing  the  enactmeuts 
about  the  direct  imposts,  and  later  transferring  these  im- 
posts from  the  poor  to  the  rich,  must  necessarily  retain 
and  do  retain  the  enactments  about  the  ownership  of 
land,  implements  of  production,  aud  other  commodities, 
to  which  the  whole  burden  of  taxation  is  transferred. 
But  the  retention  of  the  enactmeuts  about  land  and  prop- 
erty, by  freeing  the  working  people  from  the  taxes,  turns 
them  over  into  slavery  to  the  landowners  and  capitalists. 
And  those  who,  like  Henry  George  and  his  followers,  do 
away  with  the  enactments  about  ownership,  propose  new 
enactmeuts  about  a  compulsory  land  rent.  But  the  com- 
pulsory land  rent  will  inevitably  establish  a  new  form  of 
slavery,  because  a  man,  obliged  to  pay  the  rent,  or  single 
tax,  will  be  compelled  at  every  failure  of  crops  and  at 
every  misfortune  to  borrow  money  from  him  who  has  it, 
and  will  again  fall  into  slavery.  And  those  who,  like 
the  socialists,  in  their  project  do  away  with  the  enact- 
ments about  the  ownership  of  land  and  the  implements 
of  production,  retain  the  enactments  about  the  taxes  and, 
besides,  are  obliged  to  introduce  enactments  about  com- 
pelling men  to  work,  that  is,  again  establish  slavery  in  its 
primitive  form. 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  45 

• 

Thus,  in  one  way  or  another,  all  the  practical  and  theo- 
retical abolitions  of  one  set  of  enactments  which  produce 
slavery  of  one  kind  have  so  far  always  been  followed  by  new 
enactments  which  produce  slavery  of  another,  a  new  kind. 

What  is  taking  place  is  very  much  like  what  a  jailer 
does,  when  he  changes  the  chains  from  the  neck  to  the 
arms,  or  from  the  arms  to  the  legs,  or  when  he  takes 
them  off,  but  fastens  the  bolts  and  bars. 

All  the  ameliorations  for  the  working  people  so  far 
proposed  have  consisted  in  nothing  else. 

The  enactments  about  the  masters'  right  to  force  the 
slaves  to  do  work  have  given  way  to  enactments  about  the 
ownership  of  the  whole  land  by  the  masters.  The  enact- 
ments about  the  ownership  of  the  whole  land  by  the 
masters  has  given  way  to  enactments  about  taxes,  the  es- 
tabhshment  of  which  is  in  the  power  of  the  masters.  The 
enactments  about  taxes  has  given  way  to  the  strengthen- 
ing of  the  right  to  own  articles  of  use  and  implements  of 
labour.  The  enactments  about  the  right -to  own  land, 
articles  of  use,  and  implements  of  production  are  now  to 
be  abandoned  for  the  enactments  about  compulsory  labour. 

The  primitive  form  of  slavery  was  the  direct  compul- 
sion to  work.  Having  made  the  whole  circle  of  the 
different  latent  forms,  —  ownership  of  land,  taxes,  owner- 
ship of  articles  of  use  and  implements  of  production, — 
slavery  now  returns  to  its  primitive  form,  though  in  a 
changed  aspect,  —  to  the  direct  compulsion  to  work. 

Therefore  it  is  obvious  that  the  abolition  of  one  of  the 
enactments  which  produces  the  slavery  of  our  day  — 
either  of  the  taxes,  or  of  the  ownership  of  land,  or  of  the 
ownership  of  articles  of  use  and  implements  of  produc- 
tion —  will  not  destroy  slavery,  but  will  only  abolish  one 
of  its  forms,  which  will  immediately  give  way  to  another, 
as  was  the  case  with  the  abolition  of  personal  slavery  — 
serfage  —  for  taxes.  The  abolition  of  even  all  three  en- 
actments together  will  not  destroy  slavery,  but  will  only 


46  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

provoke  a  new,  still  unknown  form  of  slavery,  which  even 
now  is  slowly  manifesting  itself  in  the  enactment  which 
reduces  the  freedom  of  the  working  people,  in  the  limita- 
tion of  the  hours  of  work,  age,  condition  of  health,  in  the 
demands  for  an  obligatory  school  attendance,  in  the  reser- 
vation of  a  certain  percentage  to  provide  for  the  old  and 
the  maimed,  in  all  the  measures  of  factory  inspections,  in 
the  rules  of  cooperative  societies,  and  so  forth.  All  these 
are  nothing  but  advance  enactments  which  are  preparing 
a  new,  still  unexperienced  form  of  slavery. 

Thus  it  becomes  obvious  that  the  essence  of  slavery 
does  not  lie  in  those  three  enactments  on  which  it  is  now 
based,  and  not  even  in  any  kind  of  enactments,  but  in 
the  fact  that  there  are  enactments,  that  there  are  men 
who  are  able  to  establish  enactments  which  are  advan- 
tageous for  them,  and  that,  so  long  as  men  shall  have  this 
power,  there  will  be  slavery. 

Formerly  it  was  advantageous  for  people  to  have  direct 
slaves,  and  so  they  established  the  enactment  about  the 
personal  slavery.  Then  it  became  advantageous  to  have 
land  as  property,  to  collect  taxes,  to  retain  acquired  prop- 
erty, and  corresponding  enactments  were  made.  Now  it 
is  advantageous  for  people  to  retain  the  existing  distribu- 
tion and  division  of  labour,  and  enactments  are  intro- 
duced, such  as  would  compel  people  to  work  with  the 
existing  distribution  and  division  of  labour.  And  so  the 
fundamental  cause  of  slavery  is  enactments,  —  the  fact 
that  there  are  men  who  are  able  to  introduce  them. 


12 

What,  then,  are  enactments,  and  what  gives  men  the 
power  to  establish  them  ? 

There  exists  a  whole  science,  which  is  more  ancient 
and  more  deceptive  and  hazy  than  political  economy,  and 
the  servants  of  which  have  in  the  course  of  the  centuries 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  47 

written  millions  of  books  (which  for  the  most  part  contra- 
dict one  another),  in  order  to  answer  these  Questions. 
But  since  the  aim  of  this  science,  as  of  political  economy, 
does  not  consist  in  explaining  what  is  and  what  ought  to 
be,  but  in  proving  that  that  which  is  ought  to  be  as  it  is, 
we  are  able  in  this  science  to  find  very  many  discussions 
about  right,  about  object  and  subject,  about  the  idea  of 
the  state,  and  so  forth,  —  about  subjects  which  are  ob- 
scure, not  only  to  the  students,  but  also  to  the  teachers 
of  this  science ;  but  there  is  no  lucid  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion as  to  what  an  enactment  is. 

According  to  the  science,  an  enactment  is  an  expres- 
sion of  the  will  of  the  whole  people ;  but  since  there  are 
always  more  men  who  violate  the  enactments,  or  who 
wish  to  violate  them  but  do  not  do  so  from  fear  of  the 
punishments  imposed  for  the  non-fulfilment  of  the  enact- 
ments, than  those  who  wish  to  fulfil  them,  it  is  evident 
that  the  enactments  can  in  no  sense  be  understood  as  the 
expression  of  the  will  of  the  whole  people. 

There  exist,  for  example,  enactments  about  not  destroy- 
ing telegraph-posts,  about  showing  respect  to  certain  per- 
sons, about  the  obligation  for  every  man  to  do  military 
service  or  be  a  juror,  or  about  not  carrying  certain  objects 
beyond  a  certain  line,  or  about  not  using  the  laud  which 
is  considered  to  be  the  property  of  another,  or  about  not 
making  any  monetary  tokens,  or  about  not  using  articles 
which  are  considered  to  be  the  property  of  some  one  else. 

All  these  enactments  and  many  others  are  extremely 
varied  and  may  have  the  most  varied  motives,  but  not 
one  of  them  expresses  the  will  of  the  whole  people.  There 
is  but  one  common  feature  to  all  these  enactments,  namely, 
this,  that  if  a  man  will  not  fulfil  them,  those  who  estab- 
lished them  will  send  armed  men,  and  the  armed  men 
will  beat,  deprive  of  liberty,  and  even  kill  him  who  does 
not  fulfil  them. 

If  a  man  does  not  wish  to  give  in  the  forin  of  taxes 


48  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

the  portion  of  his  labour  demanded  of  him,  armed  men 
will  come  and  take  from  him  what  is  demanded,  and,  if 
he  offers  resistance,  will  beat  him,  deprive  him  of  liberty, 
or  even  kill  him.  The  same  thing  will  be  done  with  a 
man  who  will  use  the  land  which  is  regarded  as  some- 
body else's  property.  The  same  thing  will  happen  to 
a  man  who  will  make  use  of  articles  considered  to  be  the 
property  of  some  one  else,  which  he  needs  for  the  gi-atifi- 
cation  of  his  needs  or  for  work :  armed  men  will  come, 
will  take  from  him  what  he  has  taken,  and,  if  he  offers 
resistance,  will  beat  him,  deprive  him  of  hberty,  or  even 
kill  him.  The  same  thing  will  happen  with  a  man  who 
will  not  show  respect  to  what  it  is  enacted  that  respect 
shall  be  shown  to,  and  with  him  who  will  not  comply 
with  the  demand  to  become  a  soldier,  or  who  will  make 
monetary  tokens.  For  every  non-fulfilment  of  established 
enactments  those  who  do  not  fulfil  them  will  be  pun- 
ished :  they  will  be  subjected  to  personal  injury,  to 
the  loss  of  liberty,  and  even  to  being  killed  at  the 
hands  of  those  men  who  have  estabhshed  these  enactments. 
Very  many  constitutions  have  been  invented,  beginning 
with  the  English  and  the  American  and  ending  with  the 
Japanese  and  the  Turkish,  by  which  people  are  to  believe 
that  all  the  enactments  estabhshed  in  their  state  are 
established  by  their  own  will.  But  all  men  know  that 
not  only  in  despotic,  but  also  in  assumedly  free  countries, 
in  England,  America,  France,  and  elsewhere,  the  enact- 
ments are  estabhshed,  not  by  the  will  of  all  men,  but 
only  by  the  will  of  those  who  have  the  power,  and  so 
they  always  are  such  as  are  advantageous  for  those  who 
have  the  power,  —  be  they  many,  a  few,  or  even  one  man. 
And  the  enactments  are  always  and  everywhere  executed 
by  the  same  means  by  which  men  have  always  and  every- 
where been  compelled  to  do  the  will  of  others,  that  is, 
by  means  of  personal  injury,  loss  of  liberty,  murder,  as, 
indeed,  it  cannot  be  otherwise. 


THE   SLAVERY    OF   OUR   TIME  49 

It  cannot  be  otherwise,  because  the  enactments  are  the 
demand  for  the  fulfilment  of  certain  rules ;  but  people 
cannot  be  compelled  to  fulfil  certain  rules,  that  is,  what 
is  wanted  of  them,  except  by  subjecting  them  to  personal 
injuries,  loss  of  liberty,  and  capital  punishment.  If  there 
are  enactments,  there  has  to  be  the  power  which  can 
make  men  fulfil  them.  There  is  but  one  power  which 
can  compel  men  to  fulfil  these  rules,  that  is,  the  will  of 
other  men,  and  that  is  —  violence,  not  simple  violence, 
which  is  used  by  men  against  one  another  in  moments 
of  passion,  but  organized  violence,  which  is  consciously 
employed  by  men  who  have  power,  in  order  to  compel 
other  men  to  fulfil  rules  which  are  always  established  by 
them,  that  is,  what  they  want. 

Therefore  the  essence  of  the  enactments  is  not  at  all 
the  subject  or  object  of  right,  not  the  idea  of  the  state, 
nor  the  aggregate  will  of  the  people,  and  similar  indefinite 
and  confused  conditions,  but  is  this,  that  there  are  men 
who,  in  control  of  organized  violence,  are  able  to  compel 
people  to  do  their  will. 

Thus  a  definite,  comprehensible,  and  indisputable  defi- 
nition of  enactments  will  be  hke  this : 

Enactments  are  rules  estabhshed  by  men  who  are  in 
control  of  organized  violence,  for  the  non-fulfilment  of 
which  those  who  do  not  fulfil  them  are  subjected  to  personal 
injuries,  the  loss  of  liberty,  and  even  capital  punishment. 

In  this  definition  is  contained  the  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion as  to  what  gives  men  the  power  to  establish  en- 
actments. What  gives  them  the  power  to  estabhsh 
enactments  is  the  same  which  secures  the  execution  of 
the  enactments,  —  organized  violence. 

13 

The  cause  of  the  wretched  condition  of  the  working 
people  hes  in  slavery.     The  cause  of  slavery  lies  in  the 


50        .  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

enactments.  But  the  enactments  are  based  on.  organized 
violence. 

Consequently  the  amelioration  of  men's  condition  is 
possible  only  with  the  destruction  of  organized  violence. 

But  organized  violence  is  the  government,  and  is  it 
possible  to  live  without  any  government  ?  Without  gov- 
ernment there  will  be  chaos  and  anarchy,  all  the  progress 
of  civilization  will  perish,  and  men  will  return  to  their 
pristine  savagery.  "Just  touch  the  existing  order  of 
things,"  we  are  generally  told,  not  only  by  those  for 
whom  this  order  of  things  is  advantageous,  but  also  by 
those  for  whom  it  is  obviously  disadvantageous,  but  who 
are  so  used  to  it  that  they  cannot  imagine  life  without 
any  governmental  violence,  "  and  the  destruction  of  gov- 
ernment will  produce  the  greatest  calamities,  riots,  pillage, 
murder,  and  in  the  end  all  the  bad  will  rule,  and  the  good 
will  be  enslaved  by  them."  But,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
fact  that  all  that,  namely,  the  riots,  pillage,  and  murder, 
at  the  end  of  which  will  come  the  kingdom  of  the  evil 
and  the  enslavement  of  the  good,  has  existed  so  far  and 
exists  now,  the  supposition  that  the  violation  of  the  exist- 
ing order  will  produce  troubles  and  disorder  does  not 
prove  that  this  order  is  good. 

"  Just  put  your  hand  on  the  existing  order,  and  the 
greatest  calamities  will  result." 

Just  touch  one  brick  out  of  a  thousand  bricks  placed 
in  a  slender  column  of  a  number  of  yards  in  height,  and 
all  the  bricks  will  fall  down  and  break.  But  the  fact 
that  the  displacement  of  one  brick  or  any  push  will 
destroy  such  a  column  and  all  the  bricks  does  not  at  all 
prove  that  it  is  sensible  to  retain  the  bricks  in  an  un- 
natural and  unsuitable  position.  On  the  contrary,  it 
proves  that  the  bricks  should  not  be  kept  in  such  a  col- 
umn, but  should  be  placed  in  such  a  way  as  to  remain 
firm  and  admit  of  being  used  without  destroying  the 
whole  structure.      The   same  is  true  with    the  present 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME  51 

political  structure.  The  political  structure  is  very  arti- 
ficial aud  very  frail,  and  the  fact  that  the  slightest  ^ush 
destroys  it  does  not  prove  that  it  is  indispensable,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  shows  that,  if  it  ever  was  necessary,  it  is 
now  entirely  unnecessary,  and  therefore  harmful  aud 
dangerous. 

It  is  harmful  and  dangerous,  because  with  this  struc- 
ture all  the  evil  which  exists  in  society  is  not  only  not 
diminished  and  mended,  but  also  strengthened  and  con- 
firmed. It  is  strengthened  and  confirmed,  because  it  is 
either  justified  and  clothed  in  attractive  forms,  or  con- 
cealed. 

All  the  well-being  of  the  people  as  presented  to  us 
in  the  so-called  well-managed  states,  which  are  governed 
through  force,  is  nothing  but  seeming,  —  a  fiction.  Every- 
thing which  can  impair  the  external  decency,  all  the  hun- 
gry, sick,  monstrously  corrupt  are  hidden  away  in  places 
where  they  cannot  be  seen,  but  their  not  being  seen  does 
not  prove  that  they  do  not  exist ;  on  the  contrary,  there 
are  the  more  of  them,  the  more  they  are  concealed  and 
the  more  cruel  to  them  those  are  who  produce  them.  It 
is  true,  every  violation,  much  more  every  cessation  of  the 
governmental  activity,  that  is,  of  organized  violence,  will 
impair  such  external  decency  of  life,  but  this  violation 
will  not  produce  a  disorganization  of  life,  but  will  only 
reveal  the  one  that  has  been  concealed,  and  will  make  it 
possible  to  mend  it. 

Men  have  thought  and  believed  until  recently,  until 
the  end  of  the  present  century,  that  they  cannot  live 
without  any  government.  But  life  goes  on,  and  the  con- 
ditions of  life  and  people's  views  change.  And,  in  spite 
of  the  eflbrts  of  the  governments,  which  are  directed 
toward  retaining  people  in  this  childish  condition,  in 
which  it  seems  easier  for  an  injured  man  when  he  has 
somebody  to  complain  to,  people,  especially  workmen,  not 
only  in  Europe,  but  also  in  Eussia,  more  and  more  come 


62  THE   SLAVERY   OF   OUR   TIME 

out  of  their  childhood  and  begin  to  understand  the  true 
conditions  of  their  life. 

"  You  tell  us  that  without  you  we  shall  be  vanquished 
by  the  neighbouring  nations,  by  the  Japanese,  the  Chi- 
nese," now  say  the  people  from  the  masses,  "  but  we  read 
the  newspapers  and  know  that  no  one  is  threatening  us  with 
war  and  that  only  you,  the  rulers,  for  some  reasons  which 
are  unknown  to  us,  enrage  one  another,  and  then,  under 
the  pretext  of  defending  your  nations,  ruin  us  with  taxes 
for  the  support  of  fleets,  armaments,  strategic  railways, 
which  are  needed  only  for  your  ambition  and  vanity,  and 
start  wars  with  one  another,  as  you  have  just  now  done 
with  the  peace-loving  Chinese.  You  say  that  you  protect 
the  landed  property  for  our  good,  but  your  protection 
has  resulted  in  this,  that  all  the  land  is  passing  over  into 
the  hands  of  non-working  companies,  bankers,  rich  men, 
while  we,  the  vast  majoiity  of  the  people,  are  landless 
and  in  the  power  of  those  who  do  not  work.  You  with 
your  laws  about  landed  property  do  not  protect  landed 
property,  but  take  it  away  from  those  who  work.  You 
say  that  you  ensure  to  each  man  the  productions  of  his 
labour,  whereas  you  do  the  very  opposite :  all  people  who 
produce  costly  articles  are,  thanks  to  your  supposed  pro- 
tection, put  in  such  a  condition  that  they  never  can  get 
the  value  of  their  labour,  and  that  their  whole  life  is 
in  dependence  on  the  non-working  people  and  in  their 
power." 

Thus  the  people  of  the  end  of  our  century  are  begin- 
ning to  understand  matters  and  to  talk.  This  awakening 
from  the  lethargy  in  which  they  were  held  by  the  govern- 
ments is  taking  place  in  a  rapidly  increasing  progression. 
Within  the  last  five  or  six  years  the  public  opinion  of  the 
masses,  not  only  in  the  cities,  but  also  in  the  villages, 
not  only  in  Europe,  but  also  in  Paissia,  has  strikingly 
changed. 

We  are  told  that  without  the  governments  we  shall 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME  53 

not  have  those  cultural,  educational,  social  establishments 
which  all  need. 

But  why  assume  this  ?  Why  think  that  non-govern- 
mental people  will  not  be  able  to  arrange  their  lives  for 
themselves  as  well  as  they  are  arranged,  not  for  them- 
selves, but  for  others,  by  the  governmental  people  ? 

We  see,  on  the  contrary,  that  in  the  most  varied  cir- 
cumstances of  life,  people  in  our  time  arrange  their  hves 
for  themselves  incomparably  better  than  they  are  arranged 
for  them  by  the  men  who  govern  them.  People  without 
any  interference  from  the  government,  and  frequently  in 
spite  of  the  government's  interference,  establish  all  kinds 
of  public  enterprises,  —  labour  unions,  cooperative  socie- 
ties, railway  companies,  artels,  syndicates.  If  levies  are 
needed  for  public  works,  why  need  we  think  that  free 
people  will  not  be  able  voluntarily  and  without  violence 
to  collect  the  necessary  means  and  to  establish  every- 
thing which  is  established  with  the  taxes,  if  only  these 
institutions  are  useful  for  them  ?  Why  must  we  think 
that  there  cannot  be  any  courts  without  violence  ?  The 
judgment  of  men  in  whom  the  litigants  have  confidence 
has  always  existed  and  always  will  exist,  and  does  not 
need  violence.  We  have  been  so  corrupted  by  a  long 
slavery  that  we  cannot  imagine  a  government  without 
violence.  But  that  is  not  true.  The  Eussian  Communes, 
when  settling  in  distant  regions,  where  our  government 
does  not  interfere  with  their  life,  arrange  their  own 
levies,  their  management,  their  court,  their  police,  and 
always  prosper,  so  long  as  governmental  violence  does  not 
interfere  with  their  management.  Even  so  there  is  no 
reason  for  the  assumption  that  people  are  unable  by  com- 
mon agreement  to  distribute  the  use  of  the  land  among 
themselves. 

I  have  known  of  people,  —  the  Ural  Cossacks,  —  who 
have  lived  without  recognizing  the  ownership  of  land, 
and  the  prosperity  and  order  in  the  whole  society  have 


54  THE    SLAYERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

been  such  as  do  not  exist  in  the  society  in  which  the 
ownership  of  land  is  protected  by  violence.  I  know  of 
Communes  at  the  present  time,  which  exist  without  rec- 
ognizing the  right  of  separate  individuals  to  own  land. 
The  whole  Russian  people  within  my  memory  did  not 
recognize  the  ownership  of  land.  The  protection  given 
to  the  ownership  of  land  by  means  of  governmental  vio- 
lence not  only  fails  to  remove  the  struggle  for  the  owner- 
ship of  land,  but,  on  the  contrary,  for  the  most  part 
strengthens  it  and  brings  it  about. 

If  landed  property  were  not  protected,  and  so  made  to 
rise  in  value,  people  would  not  crowd  in  one  place,  but 
would  settle  on  free  land,  of  which  there  is  still  so  much 
on  the  globe.  But  now  there  is  taking  place  an  incessant 
struggle  for  the  ownership  of  land,  and  this  struggle  is 
waged  with  those  instruments  which  the  government 
offers  with  its  enactments  about  the  ownership  of  land. 
In  this  struggle  the  victory  is  always  obtained,  not  by 
those  who  work  the  land,  but  by  those  who  take  part 
in  the  governmental  violence. 

The  same  is  true  in  relation  to  articles  produced  by 
labour.  Articles  which  are  actually  produced  by  man's 
labour  and  which  are  necessary  for  hfe  are  always  pro- 
tected by  custom,  public  opinion,  and  the  sense  of  justice 
and  reciprocity,  and  are  in  no  need  of  protection  by  means 
of  violence. 

Tens  of  thousands  of  desyatinas  of  forest  land  belong- 
ing to  one  owner,  while  thousands  of  people  near  by  have 
no  fuel,  must  be  protected  by  violence.  The  same  pro- 
tection is  needed  for  plants  and  factories  where  several 
generations  of  workmen  have  been  plundered.  Still  more 
must  such  protection  be  given  to  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  puds  of  corn  belonging  to  one  owner  who  has  been 
waiting  for  a  famine,  in  order  to  sell  it  at  a  trebled  price 
to  the  starving  population.  But  not  a  man,  even  the 
most  corrupt,  unless  he  be  a  rich  man  or  a  government 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUli    TIME  55 

official,  will  take  from  an  agriculturist  Avho  supports  him- 
self with  his  labour  the  crops  which  he  has  raised,  or  the 
cow  which  he  has  raised  and  which  supplies  the  milk  for 
his  children,  or  the  plough,  the  scythe,  the  spade,  which 
he  has  made  and  used.  Even  if  there  should  he  found  a 
man  who  would  none  the  less  take  from  another  the  arti- 
cles produced  by  him  and  needed  by  him,  that  man 
would  provoke  such  indignation  against  himself  in  all 
men  who  live  under  the  same  conditions  that  he  would 
hardly  find  such  an  act  advantageous  for  himself.  But 
if  that  man  is  so  immoral  that  he  will  none  the  less  do 
so,  he  will  do  the  same  under  the  most  stringent  protec- 
tion of  property  by  means  of  violence.  We  are  generally 
told :  "  Try  to  destroy  the  right  to  own  land  and  articles 
of  labour,  and  not  one  man,  since  he  is  not  assured  that 
they  will  not  take  from  him  what  he  has  produced,  will 
care  to  work."  The  very  opposite  ought  to  be  said :  the 
protection  offered  by  means  of  violence  to  the  right  to 
hold  illegal  property,  such  as  is  offered  at  the  present 
time,  has,  if  not  completely  destroyed,  at  least  consider- 
ably weakened  in  men  the  natural  consciousness  of  justice 
in  relation  to  the  use  of  articles,  that  is,  in  relation  to 
the  natural  and  inborn  right  of  property,  without  which 
humanity  could  not  live,  and  which  has  always  existed 
in  society. 

And  so  there  is  no  foundation  for  the  supposition  that 
without  organized  violence  men  will  not  be  able  to 
arrange  their  lives. 

Of  course,  it  can  be  said  that  horses  and  oxen  cannot 
live  without  the  exercise  of  violence  by  rational  beings  — 
men  —  over  them ;  but  why  cannot  men  live  without 
violence  being  exerted  over  them,  not  by  some  higher 
beings,  but  by  men  themselves  ?  Why  must  men  sub- 
mit to  the  violence  of  those  men  who  at  a  given  time  are 
in  power  ?  What  proves  that  these  men  are  wiser  than 
those  men  against  whom  the  violence  is  exerted  ? 


56  THE    SLAVERY    OP    OUR   TIME 

Their  allowing  themselves  to  exert  violence  against 
people  proves  that  they  are  not  only  not  wiser,  but  even 
less  wise  than  those  who  submit  to  them.  The  Chinese 
examinations  for  the  posts  of  mandarins,  as  we  know,  do 
not  secure  the  wisest  and  best  men  for  the  power.  Just 
as  little  is  this  secured  by  heredity,  or  by  all  the  systems 
of  rank  promotions  or  of  elections  in  the  European 
states.  On  the  contrary,  those  who  get  into  power  are 
generally  less  conscientious  and  less  moral  men  than 
others. 

We  are  asked :  "  How  can  men  live  without  govern- 
ments, that  is,  without  violence  ? "  We  ought,  on  the 
contrary,  to  ask :  "  How  can  men,  rational  beings,  live, 
recognizing  violence,  and  not  rational  agreement,  as  the 
inner  force  of  their  lives  ? " 

One  or  the  other  is  true :  either  men  are  rational 
beings,  or  they  are  not.  If  they  are  irrational  beings, 
they  are  all  irrational  beings,  and  there  is  no  reason  why 
some  should  enjoy  the  right  to  exert  violence,  while 
others  do  not  enjoy  this  right,  and  then  the  violence 
exerted  by  the  government  has  no  justification.  But  if 
men  are  rational  beings,  their  relations  must  be  based 
on  reason,  and  not  on  the  violence  of  men  who  have 
accidentally  seized  the  power,  and  therefore  the  violence 
of  the  government  has  again  no  justification. 

14 

The  slavery  of  men  is  due  to  enactments,  and  enact- 
ments are  established  by  the  governments,  and  so  the 
liberation  of  men  from  slavery  is  possible  only  through 
the  abolition  of  the  governments. 

But  how  are  the  governments  to  be  destroyed  ? 

All  the  attempts  at  destroying  the  governments  by 
means  of  violence  have  so  far  everywhere  and  always 
led  to  this,  that  in  the  place  of  the  governments  over- 


THE    SLATERT   OF   OUR  TIME  57 

thrown  there  have  been  established  new,  frequently  more 
cruel  governments  than  those  which  they  superseded. 

To  say  nothing  of  the  attempts  already  made  at  des- 
troying the  governments  by  means  of  violence,  the  now 
imminent  destruction  of  the  violence  of  the  capitalists, 
that  is,  the  socialization  of  the  implements  of  production 
and  the  new  economic  structure,  must,  according  to  the 
theory  of  the  sociaHsts,  be  produced  through  a  new 
organized  form  of  violence,  and  this  must  be  retained. 
Thus  the  attempts  at  destroying  violence  with  violence, 
which  so  far  have  not  in  the  past  led,  and  obviously  will 
not  in  the  future  lead,  men  to  their  emancipation  from 
violence,  and  consequently  from  slavery. 

Nor  can  it  be  otherwise. 

Violence  is  exerted  by  one  class  of  men  against  an- 
other (outside  of  outbursts  of  vengeance  and  anger)  for 
no  other  purpose  than  to  compel  people  against  their 
wish  to  do  the  will  of  other  men.  But  the  necessity  of 
doing  against  one's  wish  the  will  of  other  men  is  slavery. 
And  so,  as  long  as  there  shall  be  any  violence,  intended  for 
the  purpose  of  compelling  people  to  do  the  will  of  other 
men,  there  will  be  slavery. 

All  the  attempts  at  abolishing  slavery  by  means  of 
violence  are  like  the  extinguishing  of  lire  with  fire,  or  the 
damming  of  water  with  water,  or  the  filling  of  one  ditch 
with  dirt  taken  out  from  another  ditch. 

And  so  the  means  for  the  emancipation  from  slavery,  if 
it  exists  at  all,  must  consist,  not  in  the  establishment  of  a 
new  form  of  violence,  but  in  the  destruction  of  what  pro- 
duces the  possibility  of  governmental  violence.  But  the 
possibility  of  governmental  violence,  as  of  any  violence 
exerted  by  a  small  number  of  men  against  a  large  num- 
ber, has  always  had  this  effect,  that  the  small  number  is 
armed,  while  the  majority  is  unarmed,  or  that  the  small 
number  is  better  armed  than  the  majority. 

Thus  have  things  been  done  in  the  case  of  every  con- 


68  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

quest :  thus  have  nations  been  vanquished  by  the  Greeks, 
the  Eomans,  the  knights,  a  Cortes,  and  thus  are  people 
now  vanquished  in  Africa  and  Asia,  and  thus  do  all  the 
governments  in  time  of  peace  hold  their  subjects  in 
subjection. 

As  in  antiquity,  even  so  now,  one  set  of  men  rules 
another,  only  because  some  are  armed,  while  the  others 
are  not. 

In  ancient  times  the  warriors  with  their  leaders  fell 
upon  defenceless  inhabitants  and  vanquished  and  plun- 
dered them,  and  all  of  them,  according  to  the  part  they 
took,  their  bravery,  their  cruelty,  divided  up  the  booty, 
and  it  was  obvious  to  every  warrior  that  the  violence 
practised  by  him  was  advantageous  for  him.  But  now 
the  armed  men,  who  are  for  the  most  part  taken  from 
among  the  working  men,  go  against  defenceless  people, 
strikers,  rioters,  or  inhabitants  of  foreign  countries,  and 
vanquish  and  plunder  them  (that  is,  compel  them  to  give 
up  their  labour),  not  for  themselves,  but  for  those  who  do 
not  even  take  part  in  the  subjugation. 

The  only  difference  between  conquerors  and  govern- 
ments is  this,  that  the  conquerors  with  their  warriors 
attacked  defenceless  inhabitants  and,  in  case  of  'their 
insubmission,  carried  out  their  threats  of  tortures  and 
murders,  while  the  governments,  in  case  of  insubmission, 
do  not  themselves  practise  tortures  and  murder  on  the 
defenceless  inhabitants,  but  cause  this  to  be  done  by 
deceived  and  specially  bestialized  men,  who  are  taken 
from  among  the  very  masses  which  they  oppress.  Thus 
the  former  violence  was  practised  through  personal  efforts, 
—  through  the  bravery,  cruelty,  and  agility  of  the  con- 
querors themselves,  while  the  present  violence  is  practised 
through  deception. 

Therefore,  if,  to  be  freed  from  the  violence  of  armed 
men,  it  was  formerly  necessary  to  arm  oneself  and  to 
offer  armed  violence  against  armed  violence,  now,  when 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME  59 

the  masses  are  not  vanquished  through  direct  violence, 
but  through  deception,  all  that  is  needed  for  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  violence  is  the  arraignment  of  the  deception 
which  makes  it  possible  for  a  small  number  of  men  to 
exert  violence  against  a  larger  number. 

The  deception  through  which  this  is  accomplished  con- 
sists in  this,  that  the  small  number  of  ruling  men,  who 
have  received  their  power  from  their  predecessors,  as 
estabhshed  by  the  conquerors,  say  to  the  majority : 
"  There  are  many  of  you,  you  are  stupid  and  uneducated, 
and  you  are  not  able  to  govern  yourselves,  nor  to  arrange 
your  own  pubhc  affairs,  and  so  we  take  this  care  upon 
ourselves :  we  will  defend  you  against  foreign  enemies, 
will  establish  and  maintain  domestic  order  among  your- 
selves, will  judge  among  you,  will  establish  and  guard  the 
public  institutions  for  you,  —  the  schools,  roads  of  com- 
munication, posts,  —  and  will  in  general  care  for  your 
weal ;  for  all  that  you  shall  fulfil  the  few  demands  which 
we  will  make  upon  you,  among  them  also  this,  that  you 
turn  over  into  our  control  a  small  portion  of  your  incomes 
and  that  you  yourselves  enter  the  army,  which  is  necessary 
for  your  safety  and  for  your  government." 

And  the  men  of  the  majority  agree  to  this,  not  because 
they  have  weighed  the  advantages  or  the  disadvantages 
of  these  conditions  (they  never  have  a  chance  to  do  this), 
but  because  they  find  themselves  under  these  conditions 
from  the  time  of  their  birth.  If  doubts  arise  in  these 
men  as  to  the  necessity  of  all  that,  every  man,  thinking 
of  himself  alone,  is  afraid  to  suffer  in  case  of  a  refusal  to 
fulfil  these  conditions,  and  hopes  to  make  use  of  these 
conditions  for  his  own  advantage,  and  all  men  agree  to 
this,  assuming  that  the  transference  of  a  small  portion 
of  their  possessions  to  the  government,  and  their  agree- 
ment to  do  military  service,  cannot  injure  their  lives  very 
much.  But  the  moment  the  money  and  the  soldiers  are 
in  the  power  of  the  governments,  these,  instead  of  fulfilling 


60  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

the  obligation  taken  upon  themselves  of  defending  their 
subjects  against  foreign  enemies  and  establishing  their 
prosperity,  do  everything  they  can  to  irritate  the  neigh- 
bouring nations  and  provoke  wars,  and  not  only  fail  to 
contribute  to  the  domestic  prosperity  of  their  nations,  but 
also  ruin  and  corrupt  them. 

In  TJie  Tho2Lsand  and  One  Nights  there  is  a  story  about 
a  traveller  who,  having  been  brought  to  an  uninhabited 
island,  finds  an  old  man,  with  dried  up  legs,  sitting  on 
the  ground,  on  the  bank  of  a  brook.  The  old  man  asks  the 
traveller  to  take  him  on  his  shoulders  and  carry  him 
across  the  brook.  This  the  traveller  agrees  to  do.  But 
the  moment  the  old  man  seats  himself  on  his  shoulders, 
he  winds  his  legs  tightly  around  the  traveller's  neck  and 
does  not  let  go  of  him.  Having  taken  possession  of  the 
traveller,  the  old  man  orders  him  about  as  he  pleases, 
plucks  fruits  from  the  trees,  which  he  eats  without  giving 
anything  to  the  one  who  carries  him,  and  in  every  other 
way  scorns  the  traveller. 

The  same  is  done  to  the  nations  which  have  given 
money  and  soldiers  to  the  governments.  With  the  money 
the  governments  buy  guns  and  hire,  or  prepare  thi-ough 
education,  irresponsible,  bestialized  military  chiefs.  But 
the  chiefs,  by  means  of  artful  methods  of  stultification, 
worked  out  through  the  ages,  which  are  called  discipline, 
prepare  a  disciplined  army  out  of  the  men  who  are  taken 
into  the  army.  This  discipline  consists  in  this,  that  the 
men  who  undergo  the  instruction  and  have  followed  it 
for  a  certain  time  are  completely  deprived  of  everything 
which  is  precious  to  a  man, —  of  the  chief  human  property 
—  rational  freedom,  —  and  become  submissive,  machine- 
like implements  of  murder  in  the  hands  of  their  organized 
hieratic  authorities. 

There  is  good  reason  why  the  kings,  emperors,  and 
presidents  esteem  discipline  so  highly,  fear  so  much  the 
violation  of  it,  and  consider  their  most  important  business 


THE    SLAVEPxY    OF    OUR    TIME  61 

to  be  inspections,  manoeuvres,  parades,  ceremonial  marches, 
and  similar  foolish  things.  They  know  that  all  that 
maintains  discipline,  and  on  discipline  alone  is  based,  not 
only  their  power,  but  also  their  existence.  The  disciplined 
army  is  the  means  with  which  they  can  through  other 
people's  hands  commit  the  greatest  malefactions,  and  the 
ability  to  do  so  subjugates  the  peoples  to  them. 

In  this  disciplined  army  lies  the  essence  of  the  decep- 
tion, in  consequence  of  which  the  governments  of  modern 
times  dominate  the  nations.  When  this  unwilled  im- 
plement of  violence  and  murder  is  in  the  power  of 
the  government,  the  whole  nation  is  in  its  power,  and  the 
government  no  longer  lets  go  of  it,  and  not  only  ruins  it, 
but  also  scorns  it,  impressing  it,  by  means  of  a  pseudo- 
religious  and  patriotic  education,  with  loyalty  and  even 
veneration  for  the  government,  that  is,  for  those  very  men 
who  keep  the  nation  in  slavery  and  torment  it. 

Consequently  the  only  means  for  the  destruction  of  the 
governments  is  not  violence,  but  the  arraignment  of  this 
deception ;  it  is  necessary  for  the  people  to  understand 
that,  in  the  first  place,  amidst  the  Christian  world  there  is 
no  need  to  defend  the  nations  against  one  another,  that 
all  the  hostilities  between  the  nations  are  provoked  only 
by  the  governments  themselves,  and  the  armies  are  needed 
only  for  a  small  number  of  ruling  men,  but  are  not  needed 
by  the  nations,  to  which  they  are  even  extremely  harmful, 
in  that  they  serve  as  an  implement  for  the  enslavement 
of  men ;  in  the  second  place,  it  is  necessary  for  men  to 
understand  that  that  discipline  which  is  so  highly  esteemed 
by  the  governments  is  the  greatest  crime  a  man  can 
commit,  —  an  obvious  proof  of  the  criminality  of  the  aims 
of  the  governments.  Discipline  is  the  destruction  of 
reason  and  of  liberty  in  man,  and  cannot  have  any  other 
purpose  than  merely  the  preparation  for  the  commission 
of  such  malefactions  as  not  one  man  will  commit  in  his 
normal  condition.      Tor  a  defensive  national  war  it  is 


62  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME 

unnecessary,  as  has  lately  been  proved  by  the  Boer  War. 
All  that  it  is  needed  for,  and  for  this  chiefly,  is,  as  deter- 
mined by  William  IL,  to  commit  the  greatest  crimes, — • 
fratricide  and  patricide. 

In  precisely  the  same  manner  acted  the  terrible  old 
man  who  was  sitting  on  the  traveller's  shoulders:  he 
laughed  at  him,  knowing  that  so  long  as  he  was  sitting 
on  his  shoulders,  the  traveller  was  in  his  power. 

It  is  this  terrible  deception,  by  means  of  which  a  small 
number  of  evil  men,  in  the  form  of  the  governments, 
dominate  the  nations,  and  not  only  ruin  them,  but  even 
commit  the  most  injurious  of  all  deeds,  corrupting  them 
for  generations  from  their  very  childhood,  which  must  be 
laid  open,  in  order  that  the  destruction  of  the  govern- 
ments and  of  the  slavery  resulting  from  them  may  be 
made  possible. 

The  German  writer,  Eugen  Schmitt,  who  edited  in 
Budapest  the  newspaper  Ohne  Staat,  printed  in  it  an 
article,  true  and  bold  not  only  in  expression,  but  also  in 
thought,  in  which  he  said  that  the  governments,  in  justi- 
fying their  existence  by  saying  that  they  provide  for  their 
subjects  a  certain  amount  of  security,  do  not  differ  i-n  this 
from  a  Calabrese  bandit  who  imposes  a  tax  upon  all  those 
who  want  to  travel  safely  over  the  highways.  Schmitt 
was  tried  for  this,  but  the  jury  found  him  innocent. 

We  are  so  hypnotized  by  the  governments  that  such  a 
comparison  seems  to  be  an  exaggeration,  a  paradox,  a  jest, 
whereas  it  is  no  paradox  and  no  jest,  —  in  fact,  the  com- 
parison is  incorrect,  because  the  activity  of  all  the  govern- 
ments is  much  more  inhuman  and,  above  all  things,  much 
more  harmful  than  the  activity  of  the  Calabrese  bandit. 
The  bandit  for  the  most  part  robs  the  rich,  while  the  gov- 
ernments for  the  most  part  rob  the  poor,  while  they  pro- 
tect the  rich,  who  help  them  in  their  crimes.  The  bandit, 
in  doing  what  he  does,  risks  his  life,  while  the  govern- 
ments risk  nothing  and  build  all  their  deeds  on  lying  and 


THE   SLAVEKY   OF   OUR  TIME  63 

deceit.  The  bandit  does  not  forcibly  take  anybody  into 
his  band,  while  the  governments  draft  their  soldiers 
generally  by  force.  With  the  bandit  all  those  who  pay 
the  tribute  receive  equal  security,  while  in  the  state  a 
man  receives  the  more  security,  aud  even  reward,  the 
more  he  takes  part  in  the  organized  deception.  Most 
secure  is  the  emperor,  king,  or  president  (he  is  always 
surrounded  by  a  guard  of  protection),  and  he  spends  the 
greatest  amount  of  money,  which  is  collected  from  the  sub- 
jects who  are  burdened  with  taxes ;  then,  in  proportion 
with  their  greater  or  lesser  participation  in  the  govern- 
mental crimes,  come  the  commanders-in-chief,  ministers, 
chiefs  of  pohce,  governors,  and  so  on,  down  to  the  pohce- 
men,  who  are  least  protected  and  who  receive  the  least 
salary.  But  he  who  does  not  at  all  take  part  in  the 
governmental  crimes,  refusing  to  serve,  to  pay  taxes,  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  the  court,  is  subjected  to  vio- 
lence, as  one  is  subjected  to  it  by  the  robbers.  The 
bandit  does  not  intentionally  corrupt  people,  while  the 
governments  for  the  attainment  of  their  purposes  cor- 
rupt whole  generations  of  children  and  adults  by  false 
religious  and  patriotic  doctrines.  Above  all  things,  not 
one,  the  most  cruel  bandit,  no  St^nka  Eaziu,  no  CartouchOs 
can  in  cruelty,  heartlessness,  and  refinement  of  tortures 
compare,  not  only  with  the  sovereigns  famous  for  their 
cruelty,  John  the  Terrible,  Louis  XL,  the  Elizabeths, 
and  so  forth,  but  even  with  the  present  constitutional  and 
Uberal  governments,  with  their  solitary  cells,  disciplinary 
battahons,  pacifications  of  riots,  and  slaughters  in  wars. 

We  must  bear  ourselves  toward  the  governments  as 
toward  the  churches,  —  either  with  awe,  or  with  disgust. 
So  long  as  a  man  has  not  come  to  understand  what  the 
government  is,  just  as  he  does  not  understand  what 
the  church  is,  he  cannot  help  but  look  with  awe  upon 
these  institutions.  So  long  as  he  is  guided  by  them,  he 
must,  for  the  sake  of  his  egoism,  imagine  that  what  he  is 


64  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME 

guided  by  is  something  original,  great,  and  sacred;  but 
the  moment  he  has  come  to  understand  that  what  he  is 
guided  by  is  nothing  original  or  sacred,  and  that  it  is  only 
the  deception  of  evil  men  who  have  used  it,  under  the 
guise  of  guidance,  for  their  personal  purposes,  he  cannot 
help  but  immediately  experience  disgust  for  these  men, 
which  is  the  greater,  the  more  important  the  side  of  life 
is  in  which  he  was  guided. 

It  is  this  that  men  must  feel  in  relation  to  the  govern- 
ments,  if  they    have    come    to   understand  their  mean- 


ing. 


People  must  understand  that  their  participation  in  the 
criminal  activity  of  the  governments,  wdiether  by  giving 
up  part  of  their  labours,  in  the  form  of  money,  or  by 
a  direct  participation  in  military  service,  is  not  an  indif- 
ferent act,  such  as  people  generally  take  it  to  be,  but, 
besides  the  harm  done  tv  him  and  to  his  brothers  by  this 
act,  also  a  participation  in  the  crimes  which  are  inces- 
santly committed  by  all  the  governments,  and  a  prepara- 
tion for  new  crimes,  for  which  the  governments  are  always 
ready,  when  they  maintain  a  disciplined  army. 

The  time  for  a  relation  of  awe  to  the  governments,  in 
spite  of  the  whole  hypnotization  which  the  governments 
employ  for  the  maintenance  of  their  position,  is  passing 
more  and  more.  And  it  is  time  for  men  to  understand 
that  the  governments  are  not  only  useless,  but  also  inju- 
rious and  in  the  highest  degree  immoral  institutions,  in 
which  an  honest  and  self-respecting  man  cannot  and  must 
not  take  part,  and  the  advantages  of  which  he  cannot  and 
must  not  enjoy. 

As  soon  as  men  shall  come  to  understand  this,  they 
will  naturally  stop  taking  part  in  those  acts,  that  is,  giv- 
ing the  governments  soldiers  and  money.  As  soon  as  the 
majority  of  men  shall  stop  doing  that,  the  deception  which 
enslaves  men  will  destroy  itself. 

Only  in  this  way  can  men  be  freed  from  slavery. 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUE    TIME  65 


15 

"  But  these  are  all  general  reflections ;  whether  they 
be  just  or  unjust,  they  are  inapplicable  to  life,"  I  hear 
the  objections  of  people  who  are  accustomed  to  their  posi- 
tion and  who  do  not  consider  it  possible  or  desirable  to 
change  it, 

"  Tell  ine,  what  is  actually  to  be  done  ?  How  is  society 
to  be  built  up  ? "  generally  say  the  men  of  the  well-to-do 
classes. 

The  men  of  the  well-to-do  classes  are  so  much  used  to 
their  role  of  slave-owners  that,  when  the  amelioration 
of  the  working  men's  condition  is  under  discussion,  they, 
feeling  themselves  in  the  position  of  the  landed  proprie- 
tors, immediately  begin  to  discuss  all  kinds  of  projects  for 
the  management  of  their  slaves,  but  it  does  not  even  occur 
to  them  that  they  have  no  right  whatever  to  dispose  of 
other  men,  and  that,  if  they  really  mean  to  do  good  to  meu, 
the  one  thing  they  can  and  must  do  is  to  stop  doing  the 
evil  which  they  are  doing  now.  The  evil  which  they  are 
doing  is  very  definite  and  clear.  The  evil  which  they 
are  doing  is  not  only  this,  that  they  are  using  the  com- 
pulsory labour  of  slaves  and  do  not  wish  to  renounce  this 
exploitation,  but  also  this,  that  they  are  themselves  taking 
part  in  the  establishment  and  maintenance  of  this  com- 
pulsory labour.     It  is  this  that  they  must  stop  doing. 

But  the  working  people  are  so  corrupted  by  the  com- 
pulsory slavery  that  to  the  majority  of  them  it  appears 
that,  if  their  condition  is  bad,  the  fault  is  with  their 
masters,  who  pay  them  too  little  and  own  the  implements 
of  production ;  it  does  not  even  occur  to  them  that  their 
bad  condition  is  due  to  themselves  alone,  and  that,  if 
they  actually  desire  the  amelioration  of  their  condition 
and  of  that  of  their  brothers,  and  not  each  his  own  advan- 
tage, the  chief  thing  they  should  do  is  to  stop  doing  evil. 
But  the  evil  which  they  do  consists  iu  this,  that,  wishing 


66  THE    SLAVERY   OF   OUR   TIME 

to  improve  their  material  condition  by  those  very  means 
by  which  they  are  brought  into  slavery,  the  working  men, 
to  be  able  to  gratify  those  habits  which  they  have  acquired, 
sacrifice  their  human  dignity  and  liberty  and  accept  de- 
grading, immoral  positions,  or  work  at  producing  useless 
and  injurious  articles ;  but  chiefly  in  this,  that  they  sup- 
port the  governments,  take  part  in  them  with  their  taxes 
and  direct  service,  and  thus  enslave  themselves. 

For  men's  condition  to  improve,  both  the  men  of  the 
well-do-men  classes  and  the  labourers  must  understand 
that  it  is  impossible  to  improve  men's  condition  by  pre- 
serving their  own  advantage,  that  the  ministration  to  men 
is  not  without  sacrifices,  and  that  therefore,  if  people 
really  want  to  improve  the  condition  of  their  brothers, 
and  not  their  own,  they  must  be  prepared,  not  only  for 
the  change  of  the  whole  structure  of  life  to  which  they 
are  used,  and  to  the  loss  of  those  advantages  which 
they  have  been  enjoying,  but  also  for  a  tense  struggle, 
not  with  the  governments,  but  with  themselves  and  their 
families,  —  they  must  be  prepared  for  persecutions  for 
not  fulfilling  the  demands  of  the  government. 

Consequently  the  answer  to  the  question  as  to  what 
should  be  done  is  very  simple,  and  not  only  definite,  but 
also  in  the  highest  degree  and  always  and  for  every  man 
practicable  and  easy  of  execution,  though  it  is  not  such  as 
is  expected  by  those  who,  like  the  men  of  the  well-to-do 
classes,  are  fully  convinced  that  they  are  called,  not  to 
mend  themselves  (they  are  good  as  it  is),  but  to  teach 
others  and  provide  for  them,  or  who,  like  the  working 
people,  are  convinced  that  it  is  not  they  who  are  to  blame 
for  their  bad  condition,  but  only  the  capitalists,  and  that 
this  condition  can  be  changed  only  by  taking  away  from 
the  capitalists  what  they  enjoy,  and  by  making  it  possible 
for  all  men  to  enjoy  those  pleasures  of  life  which  the 
capitaHsts  alone  enjoy  at  present.  This  answer  is  quite 
definite,  practicable,  and   easy   of    execution,  because  it 


THE   SLAVERY   OF   OUR   TIME  67 

invites  to  activity  the  only  person  over  whom  each  has  a 
real,  legal,  and  undoubted  power,  —  oneself,  —  and  con- 
sists in  this,  that,  if  a  man  —  be  he  slave  or  slaveholder 
—  really  wishes  to  improve,  not  his  condition  alone,  but 
the  condition  of  all  men,  he  must  himself  stop  doing  the 
evil  which  produces  his  slavery  and  the  slavery  of  his 
brothers.  And,  in  order  not  to  do  the  evil  which  pro- 
duces his  wretchedness  and  the  wretchedness  of  his 
brothers,  he  must,  in  the  first  place,  neither  voluntarily 
nor  by  compulsion  take  part  in  governmental  activities, 
and  so  not  take  upon  himself  the  calling  of  a  soldier,  or 
field-marshal,  or  minister,  or  collector  of  taxes,  or  deputy, 
or  elder,  or  juror,  or  governor,  or  member  of  parliament,  or 
in  general  any  office  w^hich  is  connected  with  violence. 
So  much  for  one  thing.  In  the  second  place,  such  a  man 
must  not  voluntarily  pay  any  direct  or  indirect  taxes  to 
the  government,  and  must  equally  not  make  use  of  any 
money  which  is  collected  as  taxes,  either  in  the  form  of 
a  salary  or  in  the  form  of  pensions,  or  rewards,  and  so 
forth,  nor  make  use  of  any  governmental  institutions 
which  are  supported  from  the  taxes  that  are  forcibly 
collected  from  the  people.  So  much  for  the  second  thing. 
In  the  third  place,  a  man  who  wishes  to  contribute,  not 
to  his  own  welfare  alone,  but  to  the  amelioration  of  men's 
condition,  must  not  turn  to  the  governmental  violence, 
either  for  the  protection  of  the  ownership  of  land  or  other 
objects,  or  for  his  own  security  or  the  security  of  his 
friends,  but  must  own  the  land,  as  well  as  all  other  prod- 
ucts of  other  people's  or  his  own  labour,  only  to  the 
extent  to  which  no  demands  of  other  people  are  brought 
forward  in  regard  to  these  articles. 

"  But  such  an  activity  is  impossible :  to  refuse  every 
participation  in  governmental  affairs  means  to  renounce 
life,"  I  shall  be  told.  "  A  man  who  will  refuse  to  do  mili- 
tary service  will  be  imprisoned ;  a  man  who  will  not  pay 
his  taxes  will  be  subjected  to  penalties,  and  the  taxes 


68  THE    SLAVERY   OF    OUR   TIME 

will  be  levied  on  his  property ;  a  man  who  will  refuse  to 
enter  the  service  of  the  government,  without  having  any- 
other  means  of  existence,  will  perish  with  his  family 
from  hunger ;  the  same  thing  will  happen  to  a  man  who 
will  refuse  the  governmental  protection  of  his  property 
and  person ;  and  it  is  quite  impossible  not  to  use  articles 
that  are  burdened  with  taxes  and  not  to  use  the  governmen- 
tal institutions,  since  often  it  is  articles  of  prime  necessity 
that  are  taxed,  and  it  is  similarly  impossible  to  get  along 
without  the  governmental  institutions,  such  as  the  post- 
office,  roads,  and  so  forth. 

It  is  quite  true  that  it  is  hard  for  a  man  of  our  time  to 
renounce  every  participation  in  governmental  violence  ; 
but  the  fact  that  not  every  man  is  able  so  to  arrange  his 
life  as  not  to  be  in  some  measure  a  participant  in  govern- 
mental violence  does  not  by  any  means  show  that  there 
is  no  possibility  of  freeing  oneself  more  and  more  from  it. 
Not  every  man  will  have  the  strength  to  refuse  to  do 
military  service  (but  there  are  and  will  be  such),  but  it  is 
in  the  power  of  every  man  not  of  his  own  free  will 
to  enter  military,  police,  judicial,  or  fiscal  service,  and  it 
is  possible  for  him  to  prefer  a  less  paying  private  activ- 
ity to  the  more  profitable  governmental  service. 

Not  every  man  will  have  the  strength  to  renounce  his 
ownership  of  land  (though  there  are  some  men  who  do 
so),  but  it  is  possible  for  every  man,  if  he  understands 
the  criminality  of  such  property,  to  contract  its  limits. 
Not  every  man  will  be  able  to  renounce  the  possession  of 
capital  (there  are  men  who  do)  and  the  use  of  articles 
protected  by  violence,  but  it  is  possible  for  every  man, 
diminishing  his  needs,  to  make  less  and  less  use  of 
articles  which  provoke  the  envy  of  other  people.  Not 
every  person  is  able  to  give  up  a  governmental  salary 
(there  are  also  those  who  prefer  starving  to  a  dishonest 
governmental  position),  but  it  is  possible  for  every  man  to 
prefer  a  small  salary  to  a  larger  one,  if  only  the  duties 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  G9 

to  be  performed  are  less  connected  with  violence.  Not 
every  person  can  renounce  the  use  of  the  governmental 
schools  (there  are  also  those  who  do),  but  it  is  possible  for 
every  man  to  prefer  a  private  school  to  one  by  the  govern- 
ment And  so  it  is  possible  for  every  man  less  and  less 
to  use  articles  that  are  burdened  with  duties,  and  the 
institutions  of  the  government. 

Between  the  existing  order  of  things,  which  is  based 
on  coarse  violence,  and  the  ideal  of  life,  which  consists  in 
a  communion  of  men  that  is  based  on  rational  consent 
as  established  by  custom,  there  is  an  endless  number  of 
steps  over  which  humanity  has  walked  incessantly,  and 
the  approach  to  this  ideal  is  accomplished  ouly  in  propor- 
tion as  men  are  freed  from  participation  in  violence,  from 
using  it,  and  from  the  habit  of  it.  We  do  not  know  and 
we  cannot  foresee,  much  less  prescribe,  as  the  so-called 
learned  men  do,  in  what  way  is  to  come  about  this 
gradual  weakening  of  the  governments  and  the  emancipa- 
tion of  men  from  them ;  we  do  not  even  know  what  forms 
human  life  will  assume  as  it  is  gradually  emancipated 
from  governmental  violence ;  but  we  know  indubitably 
that  the  life  of  men,  who,  having  come  to  understand  the 
criminality  and  harmfulness  of  the  government's  activity, 
will  try  not  to  make  use  of  it  and  not  to  take  part  in  it, 
will  be  a  very  different  one  and  more  in  agreement  with 
legitimate  life  and  with  our  conscience  than  is  the  present 
one,  when  the  men  themselves,  taking  part  in  the  \iolence 
of  the  governments  and  making  use  of  it,  pretend  to  be 
struggling  against  it  and  try  to  destroy  the  old  violence 
by  a  new  form  of  it. 

Above  all  else,  the  present  structure  of  life  is  bad ;  all 
men  agree  to  that.  The  cause  of  the  bad  condition  and 
of  the  slavery  lies  in  the  violence  of  the  governments.  To 
destroy  the  governmental  violence  there  exists  but  one 
means :  people's  refusal  to  take  part  in  violence.  Conse- 
quently, whether  it  is  hard  for  people  to  refrain  from  par- 


70  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME 

ticipation  in  governmental  violence,  or  not,  and  whether 
the  beneficent  results  of  such  a  refusal  will  appear  soon, 
or  not,  —  such  questions  are  superfluous,  because  there  is 
but  this  one  means,  and  no  other,  for  freeing  men  from 
slavery. 

But  to  what  extent  and  when  the  substitution  of 
rational  and  free  consent,  sanctioned  by  custom,  for  vio- 
lence will  be  realized  in  every  society  and  in  the  whole 
world,  that  will  depend  on  the  strength  of  the  lucidity  of 
people's  consciences  and  on  the  number  of  separate  indi- 
viduals who  have  attained  to  such  a  state  of  conscience. 
Every  one  of  us  is  an  individual,  and  every  one  of  us  may 
be  a  participant  in  the  common  movement  of  humanity 
by  a  more  or  less  clear  consciousness  or  beneficent  pur- 
pose, and  he  may  be  an  opponent  to  this  movement. 
Every  man  has  the  choice,  either  to  go  against  God's  will, 
by  building  on  the  sand  the  frail  house  of  his  perishable 
deceptive  hfe,  or  to  join  the  eternal,  undying  movement 
of  the  true  life  according  to  God's  will. 

But,  maybe,  I  am  mistaken,  and  it  is  necessary  to  make 
quite  different  deductions  from  the  history  of  humanity, 
and  humanity  does  not  march  from  violence  to  emancipa- 
tion, and,  maybe,  it  is  possible  to  prove  that  violence  is 
a  necessary  factor  of  progress,  that  the  state  with  its  vio- 
lence is  an  indispensable  form  of  life,  and  that  men  will 
be  worse  off,  if  governments,  property,  and  the  protection 
of  security  are  done  away  with. 

Let  us  admit  that  that  is  so  and  that  all  the  preceding 
arguments  are  wrong ;  but,  besides  the  general  considera- 
tions about  the  life  of  humanity,  every  man  has  also  the 
question  of  his  personal  life,  and,  in  spite  of  all  reflections 
concerning  the  general  laws  of  life,  a  man  cannot  do  what 
he  recognizes  not  only  as  injurious,  but  also  as  bad. 

"  It  is  very  likely  that  the  reflection  that  the  state  is  a 
necessary  form  of  the  development  of  personality  and  that 
governmental  violence  is  indispensable  for  the  good   of 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR   TIME  71 

society  may  be  deduced  from  history,  and  that  these 
reflections  are  right,"  every  sincere  and  honest  man  of  our 
time  will  answer.  "  But  murder  is  evil,  —  that  I  know 
more  certainly  than  all  reflections ;  but,  by  demanding  of 
me  military  service  or  money  for  the  hire  and  arming 
of  soldiers,  or  for  the  purchase  of  cannon  and  the  arma- 
ment of  ironclads,  you  wish  to  make  me  a  participant  in 
murder,  and  I  not  only  do  not  want  that,  but  am  not  even 
able  to  do  that.  Even  so  I  will  not  and  cannot  use  the 
money  which  you  have  collected  from  the  hungry  under 
threat  of  murder,  and  I  will  not  make  use  of  the  land  and 
of  the  capital  which  you  protect,  because  I  know  that  you 
protect  only  by  means  of  murder. 

"  I  was  able  to  do  all  that  so  long  as  I  did  not  under- 
stand the  whole  criminality  of  these  matters;  but  the 
moment  I  came  to  see  it  I  was  unable  to  stop  seeing  it, 
and  I  am  no  longer  able  to  take  part  in  these  things. 

"  I  know  that  we  are  all  so  bound  up  by  violence  that 
it  is  hard  fully  to  vanquish  it,  but  I  will  none  the  less 
do  what  I  can  in  order  not  to  take  part  in  it,  I  will  not 
be  its  accomplice,  and  I  will  try  not  to  use  what  is  ac- 
quired and  protected  by  murder. 

"  I  have  one  life,  and  why  should  I  in  this  my  brief 
life  act  contrary  to  the  voice  of  my  conscience  and  become 
a  participant  in  your  abominable  deeds?  I  will  not 
do  so. 

"  What  will  cume  of  all  that  ?  I  do  not  know ;  but  I 
think  that  nothing  bad  can  happen  from  my  acting  as  my 
conscience  commands  me  to  act." 

Thus  must  every  honest  and  sincere  man  of  our  time 
retort  to  all  the  arguments  about  the  indispensableness 
of  governments  and  violence,  and  to  every  demand  or 
mvitation  to  take  part  in  it. 

Thus  the  liighest  judge,  from  whom  there  is  no  ap- 
peal, —  the  voice  of  conscience,  —  confirms  for  every  man 
what  he  is  led  to  by  general  considerations. 


EPILOGUE 

"  Why,  that  is  agaiu  the  old  sermon :  on  the  one  hand, 
about  the  destruction  of  the  existing  order  without  the 
substitution  of  another  for  it,  and  on  the  other,  about 
non-acting,"  many  will  say,  upon  reading  the  above. 
"  The  governmental  activity  is  not  good,  and  likewise 
the  activity  of  the  landowner  or  enterprising  man  is  not 
good ;  similarly  bad  is  the  activity  of  the  socialists  and 
anarchistic  revolutionaries,  that  is,  every  practical  activ- 
ity, and  what  is  good  is  some  kind  of  a  moral,  spiritual, 
indefinite  activity,  which  reduces  itself  to  absolute  chaos 
and  non-acting."  Thus,  I  know,  many  serious  and  sin- 
cere men  will  think  and  say. 

What  to  men  appears  most  confounding,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  violence,  is  the  unprotected  condition  of  prop- 
erty, and  so  the  chance  offered  for  every  man  to  take  with 
impunity  from  another  what  he  needs  or  wants.  People 
who  are  accustomed  to  the  protection  of  property  and  the 
person  by  means  of  violence  imagine  that  without  this 
protection  there  will  be  a  constant  disorder,  a  constant 
struggle  of  all  against  all, 

I  will  not  repeat  what  I  have  said  in  another  place 
about  this,  that  the  protection  of  property  by  means  of 
violence  does  not  diminish,  but  increases  disorder.  But 
even  if  we  admit  that  with  the  absence  of  protection  there 
may  arise  disorders,  what  are  people  to  do  who  have  come 
to  understand  the  cause  of  those  calamities  from  which 
they  suffer  ? 

If  we  understand  that  we  are  sick  from  intoxication,  we 

72 


THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME  73 

cannot  continue  drinking  and  hope  to  improve  our  con- 
dition by  drinking  moderately,  or  continue  drinking-  and 
take  medicine  which  is  prescribed  to  us  by  short-sighted 
physicians. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  disease  of  society.  If  w^e  have 
come  to  understand  that  one  set  of  people  does  violence 
to  other  people,  it  is  impossible  to  improve  the  condition 
of  society  by  continuing  to  maintain  the  governmental 
violence  which  exists,  or  by  iutroduciug  a  new,  the  revo- 
lutionary, socialistic  violence.  That  was  possible  so  long 
as  the  fundamental  cause  of  men's  calamities  was  not 
clearly  discernible.  But  as  soon  as  it  becomes  indubi- 
tably clear  that  men  suffer  from  violence  which  is  ex- 
erted by  one  class  of  men  over  another,  it  is  no  longer 
possible  to  improve  the  condition  of  men  by  continuing 
the  old  and  introducing  the  new  kind  of  violence.  Just 
as  for  an  alcoholic  patient  there  is  but  one  means  for  his 
liberation,  —  abstinence  from  liquor,  the  cause  of  the 
disease,  —  so  there  is  but  one  means  for  the  liberation  of 
men  from  the  bad  structure  of  society,  and  that  is,  absti- 
nence from  violence,  —  the  cause  of  calamities,  —  from 
personal  violence,  from  the  propaganda  of  violence,  from 
every  justification  of  violence. 

Not  only  is  this  the  only  means  for  freeing  men  from 
their  wretchedness,  but  its  apphcation  is  also  necessary, 
because  it  coincides  with  the  moral  law  of  every  separate 
individual  of  our  time.  If  a  man  of  our  time  has  come 
to  understand  that  every  protection  of  property  and  per- 
sonality by  means  of  violence  is  attained  only  by  the 
threat  of  killing  and  by  killing  itself,  he  can  no  longer 
calmly  use  what  is  acquired  through  murder  or  the  threat 
of  killing,  much  less  can  ho  take  part  in  murder  or  the 
threat  of  killing.  Thus,  what  is  demanded  for  the  libera- 
tion of  men  from  their  calamities  is  also  necessary  for  the 
gratification  of  the  moral  feeling  of  every  individual. 
And  so  there  can  no  longer  be  any  doubt  for  every  sepa- 


74  THE    SLAVERY    OF    OUR    TIME 

rate  individual  that  both  for  the  common  good  and  for  the 
fulfilment  of  the  law  of  his  life  he  must  not  take  part  in 
violence,  must  not  justify  it,  must  not  make  use 
of  it. 


WHAT   IS   RELIGION 

And  in  What  Does  Its  Essence  Consists' 

1902 


WHAT  IS  RELIGION? 


In  all  human  societies  there  always,  at  certain  periods 
of  their  life,  arrives  a  time  when  religion  at  first  deflects 
from  its  fundamental  meaning,  then,  deflecting  more  and 
more,  loses  its  fundamental  meaning  and  finally  congeals 
in  once  for  all  established  forms,  and  then  its  action  upon 
the  hves  of  men  grows  constantly  less  and  less. 

During  such  periods  the  cultured  minority,  not  behev- 
ing  in  the  existing  religious  teaching,  only  pretends  to  be 
believing  in  it,  as  it  finds  this  necessary  in  order  to  retain 
the  popular  masses  in  the  established  structure  of  life ; 
but  the  popular  masses,  though  through  inertia  abiding 
in  the  once  established  forms  of  religion,  in  their  lives  are 
no  longer  guided  by  the  demands  of  rehgion,  but  only  by 
the  popular  customs  and  state  laws. 

Thus  it  has  been  many  times  in  various  human  socie- 
ties, but  there  has  never  before  happened  what  now  is 
going  on  in  our  Christian  society.  It  never  happened 
before  that  the  rich,  ruling,  and  most  cultured  minority, 
which  has  the  greatest  influence  upon  the  masses,  should 
not  believe  in  the  existing  religion,  but  should  be  con- 
vinced that  in  our  time  no  religion  is  needed,  and  should 
impress  upon  the  people  who  doubt  in  the  truth  of  the 
professed  religion,  not  some  more  rational  and  clearer 
religious  doctrine  than  the  existing  one,  but  the  fact  that 

77 


78  WHAT    IS    KELIGION? 

religion  has  iu  general  outlived  its  time  and  is  now  not 
only  a  useless,  but  also  a  harmful  organ  of  the  life  of 
societies,  something  like  the  blind  gut  in  man's  organism. 
Rehgion  is  studied  by  these  men,  not  as  something 
known  to  us  through  our  inner  experience,  but  as  an  ex- 
ternal phenomenon,  like  a  disease,  to  which  some  people 
are  subject  and  which  can  be  investigated  only  from  its 
external  symptoms. 

Eeligion,  according  to  the  opinion  of  some  of  these 
men,  originated  in  the  spiritualization  of  all  the  phe- 
nomena of  Nature  (animism) ;  according  to  others,  in 
the  conception  of  the  possibility  of  establishing  a  relation 
with  the  deceased  ancestors;  according  to  others  again, 
in  the  fear  of  the  forces  of  Nature.  And  since,  the 
learned  men  of  our  time  continue  to  reason,  science  has 
proved  that  trees  and  stones  cannot  be  vitalized,  and  the 
deceased  ancestors  no  longer  feel  what  the  living  are  do- 
ing, and  the  phenomena  of  Nature  are  explained  accord- 
ing to  natural  causes,  there  has  also  been  destroyed  the 
necessity  of  religion  and  of  all  those  restrictions  which, 
in  consequence  of  religious  beliefs,  people  have  imposed 
upon  themselves.  According  to  the  opinion  of  the 
learned  there  was  a  period  of  ignorance,  —  of  religion. 
This  period  was  long  ago  outlived  by  humanity,  and  only 
rare,  atavistic  signs  of  it  are  left.  Then  followed  the 
metaphysical  period,  and  that  too  has  been  outlived.  But 
now  we,  the  enlightened  men,  are  living  in  the  scientific 
period,  iu  the  period  of  positive  science,  which  takes  the 
place  of  religion  and  leads  humanity  to  a  high  stage  of 
development,  such  as  it  could  never  have  reached  by 
submitting  to  superstitious  religious  doctrines. 

In  the  beginning  of  1901  the  famous  French  scholar, 
Berthelot,  delivered  a  speech  {Revue  de  Paris,  Janvier, 
1901)  in  which  he  informed  his  hearers  that  the  time  of 
religion  was  past,  and  that  religion  must  now  give  way 
to  science.     J.  quote  this  speech,  because  it  is  the  first 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION?  79 

which  fell  into  my  hands  and  because  it  was  delivered  in 
the  capital  of  the  cultured  world  by  a  well-recognized 
scholar ;  but  the  same  idea  is  constantly  expressed  every- 
where, beginning  with  philosophic  treatises  and  ending 
with  newspaper  feuilletons.  M.  Berthelot  says  in  this 
speech  that  formerly  there  were  two  principles  w^hich 
moved  humanity  :  force  and  religion.  Now  these  movers 
have  become  superfluous,  because  science  has  taken  their 
place.  By  science  M.  Berthelot,  like  all  men  who  beHeve 
in  science,  apparently  understands  such  science  as  em- 
braces the  whole  field  of  human  know-ledge,  harmoniously 
connected  and  distributed  according  to  the  degree  of  its 
importance,  and  is  in  possession  of  such  methods  that  all 
tlie  data  acquired  by  it  form  an  unquestionable  truth. 
But  since  such  a  science  does  not  exist  in  reality,  while 
what  is  called  science  forms  a  conglomerate  of  accidental, 
disconnected  bits  of  knowledge,  which  frequently  are  use- 
less and  not  only  do  not  represent  an  undoubted  truth, 
but  are  filled  through  and  through  with  the  grossest  delu- 
sions, which  to-day  are  put  forth  as  truths  and  to-morrow 
are  overthrown,  it  is  evident  that  there  does  not  exist  the 
very  subject  which,  according  to  M.  Berthelot's  opinion, 
is  to  take  the  place  of  religion.  Consequently  the  asser- 
tion of  M.  Berthelot  and  of  the  people  who  agree  with 
him,  that  science  will  take  the  place  of  religion,  is  quite 
arbitrary,  and  is  based  on  an  ungrounded  faith  in  the  in- 
fallible science,  which  completely  resembles  the  faith 
in  the  infalhble  church.  Meanwhile,  the  people  who  call 
themselves  and  are  called  learned  are  absolutely  convinced 
that  such  a  science  already  exists,  and  that  it  must  and 
can  take  the  place  of  religion,  and  has  even  now  over- 
thrown it. 

"  Eeligion  has  outlived  its  usefulness,  and  it  is  a  sign  of 
ignorance  to  believe  in  anything  but  science.  Science 
will  arrange  everything  needed,  and  we  should  be  guided 
in  life  by  nothing  but  science,"  think  and  say  both  the 


80  WHAT    IS    RELIGION? 

learned  and  the  people  of  the  crowd,  who,  though  far 
removed  from  science,  believe  in  the  learned  and  with 
them  assert  that  religion  is  an  obsolete  superstitiou,  and 
that  in  life  we  should  be  guided  by  science,  that  is,  in 
reality  by  nothing,  since  science,  from  its  very  aim..  —  to 
study  everything  in  existence,  —  is  unable  to  give  any 
guidance  in  the  life  of  man. 


The  learned  men  of  our  time  have  decided  that  relig- 
ion is  not  necessary,  that  science  will  take  its  place,  or 
has  already  taken  its  place,  and  yet,  as  before  so  also  now, 
no  human  society,  no  rational  man,  has  lived,  or  can  live, 
without  rehgion  (I  say  "  rational  man,"  because  an  irra- 
tional man,  like  an  animal,  can  hve  without  religion). 
A  rational  man  cannot  live  without  religion,  because  it  is 
only  religion  that  gives  a  rational  man  the  necessary  guid- 
ance as  to  what  he  should  do,  and  what  he  should  do  tlrst 
and  what  next.  A  rational  man  cannot  live  without 
religion,  even  because  reason  is  the  property  of  his  nature. 
Every  animal  is  guided  in  its  acts  —  except  those  toward 
which  it  is  driven  by  the  direct  necessity  of  gratifying 
its  wishes  —  by  considerations  about  the  nearest  couse- 
quences  of  its  acts.  Having  reflected  upon  these  con- 
sequences by  means  of  that  power  of  cognition  which  it 
possesses,  the  animal  harmonizes  its  acts  with  these  con- 
sequences and  always  without  wavering  acts  in  the  self- 
same manner,  in  correspondence  with  these  considerations. 
Thus,  for  example,  a  bee  flies  after  the  honey  and  brings  it 
into  the  hive,  because  in  the  winter  it  will  need  the  food 
collected  for  itself  and  for  its  young  ones,  and  outside  of 
these  considerations  it  does  not  know  and  cannot  know 
anything ;  even  so  acts  a  bird  in  weaving  its  nest  and  in 
flying  from  north  to  south  and  back  again.  Even  so  acts 
every  animal  in  performing  an  act  which  does  not  result 


WHAT    IS   KELIGION?  81 

from  the  direct,  present  necessity,  but  which  is  condi- 
tioned by  considerations  of  expected  consequences.  But 
it  is  not  thus  with  man. 

The  difference  between  a  man  and  an  animal  is  this,  that 
the  animal's  faculties  of  cognition  are  limited  by  whai 
we  call  instinct,  while  man's  fundamental  faculty  of 
cognition  is  reason.  The  bee,  in  collecting  the  food,  can 
have  no  doubts  as  to  whether  it  is  good  or  bad  to  collect 
it.  But  a  man,  in  collecting  the  harvest  or  fruit,  cannot 
help  but  think  as  to  whether  he  is  destroying  for  the 
future  time  the  production  of  the  corn  or  the  fruit  and 
whether  by  his  harvesting  he  is  depriving  his  neighbours 
of  food.  And  he  cannot  help  but  think  as  to  what  will 
become  of  his  children  whom  he  feeds,  and  many  more 
things.  The  most  important  questions  of  the  conduct  of 
life  cannot  by  a  rational  man  be  determined  definitely 
for  the  very  abundance  of  consequences,  which  he  cannot 
help  but  see.  Every  rational  man  feels,  if  he  does  not 
know,  that  in  the  most  important  questions  of  life  he 
must  not  be  guided  by  his  personal  impulses,  or  by  con- 
siderations as  to  the  immediate  consequences  of  his  activ- 
ity, because  he  sees  too  many  various  and  frequently 
contradictory  consequences,  that  is,  such  as  with  equal 
probability  may  be  beneficent  or  injurious,  both  for  him 
and  for  other  people.  There  is  a  legend  as  to  how  an 
angel,  who  descended  upon  earth  into  the  house  of  a  God- 
fearing family,  killed  the  child  in  the  cradle,  and,  when  he 
was  asked  why  he  did  that,  replied  that  the  child  would 
have  grown  to  be  a  great  malefactor  and  would  have  caused 
the  family  a  misfortune.  Not  only  the  question  as  to 
what  human  life  is  useful,  useless,  or  harmful,  but  also 
all  the  most  important  questions  of  life  cannot  be  solved 
by  a  rational  man  from  a  consideration  of  their  nearest 
relations  and  consequences.  A  rational  man  cannot  be 
satisfied  with  those  considerations  which  guide  the  acts 
of  an  animal.     A  man  may  consider  himself  as  an  animal 


82  WUAT    IS    RELIGION? 

amidst  animals  who  live  in  the  present  day,  and  he  can 
consider  himself  as  a  member  of  his  family  and  as  a 
member  of  society,  a  nation,  which  lives  by  centuries,  and 
he  can  and  by  all  means  must  (since  his  reason  irre- 
pressibly  draws  him  to  it)  consider  himself  as  a  part  of 
the  whole  endless  universe,  which  lives  an  infinite  time. 
And  thus  a  rational  man  has  always  been  obliged  in 
relation  to  the  infinitely  small  phenomena  of  life  which 
may  influence  his  acts  to  make,  and  always  has  made, 
what  in  mathematics  is  called  integration,  that  is,  to 
establish,  besides  his  relation  to  the  nearest  phenomena 
of  life,  his  relation  to  the  whole  universe,  infinite  in  time 
and  space,  by  comprehending  life  as  one  whole.  Such 
an  establishment  of  man's  relation  to  the  whole,  of  which 
he  feels  himself  to  be  a  part  and  from  which  he  deduces 
guidance  in  his  actions,  is  what  has  been  called  religion. 
Therefore  religion  has  always  been  and  always  must  be 
a  necessity  and  an  irremovable  condition  of  the  life  of  a 
rational  man  and  of  rational  humanity. 


Thus  has  religion  always  been  understood  by  men  who 
are  not  deprived  of  the  faculty  of  the  higher,  that  is,  the 
religious,  consciousness,  which  distinguishes  man  from 
the  animal.  The  oldest  and  most  customary  definition  of 
religion,  from  which  also  comes  the  word  "religion"  itself 
(religare,  to  bind),  consists  in  this,  that  religion  is  man's 
union  with  God.  "  Les  oUigations  de  I'homme  envers  Dieu, 
voila  la  religion"  says  Vauvenargue.  A  similar  meaning 
is  ascribed  to  religion  by  Schleiermacher  and  Feuerbach, 
who  recognize  as  the  basis  of  religion  man's  consciousness 
of  his  dependence  on  God.  "  La  religion  est  une  affaire 
entre  chaque  homme  et  Dieu  "  (Beile).  "  La  religio7i  est  le 
resultat  des  hesoins  de  Vdme  et  des  effets  de  I' intelligence" 
(B.  Constant).     "  Keligion  is  a  certain  method  for  man  to 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION?  83 

realize  his  relation  to  the  superhuman  and  mysterious 
forces  on  which  he  considers  himself  to  be  dependent" 
(Goblet  d'Alviella).  "  Eeligion  is  the  definition  of  human 
life  by  means  of  the  connection  between  the  human  soul 
and  that  mysterious  spirit  whose  government  of  the  world 
and  of  himself  is  recognized  by  man  and  with  whom  he 
feels  himself  to  be  bound  up  "  (A.  Reville). 

Thus  the  essence  of  religion  has  always  been  under- 
stood by  men  who  are  not  deprived  of  the  highest  human 
quahty  to  be  the  estabhshment  by  man  of  his  relation  to 
the  infinite  being  or  beings  whose  power  he  feels  over 
himself.  And  this  relation,  no  matter  how  it  may  differ 
for  the  different  peoples  and  at  different  times,  has  always 
determined  for  men  their  destiny  in  the  universe,  from 
which  naturally  has  resulted  the  guidance  for  their  activity. 
A  Jew  understood  his  relation  to  the  Infinite  to  be  this, 
that  he  was  a  member  of  a  nation  chosen  by  God  from 
among  all  the  nations  and  so  had  to  observe  before  God 
the  covenant  entered  into  with  this  nation  by  God.  A 
Greek  understood  his  relation  to  be  this,  that  he,  being 
related  to  the  representatives  of  infinitude  —  the  gods, 
must  do  what  was  pleasing  to  them.  A  Brahmin  under- 
stood his  relation  to  the  infinite  Brahma  to  be  this,  that 
he  was  a  manifestation  of  this  Brahma  and  must  through 
a  renunciation  of  life  strive  for  a  union  with  this  supreme 
being.  A  Buddhist  understands  his  relation  to  the  Infinite 
to  be  this,  that  he,  passing  from  one  form  of  life  to 
another,  inevitably  suffers,  and  that  the  sufferings  are  due 
to  passions  and  desires,  and  that,  therefore,  he  must  strive 
for  an  annihilation  of  all  passions  and  desires  and  for  a 
transition  into  Nirvana.  Every  religion  is  the  establish- 
ment of  man's  relation  to  the  infinite  existence  to  which 
he  feels  himself  related  and  from  which  he  deduces  his 
rules  of  action.  And  so,  if  a  religion  does  not  establish 
man's  relation  to  the  Infinite,  as,  for  example,  is  the  case 
in  idolatry  and  sorcery,  it  is  not  a  religion,  but  only  a 


84  WHAT    IS    EELIGION  ? 

degeueration  of  it.  If  a  religion,  though  establishing 
man's  relation  to  God,  establishes  it  by  means  of  assertions 
which  are  contrary  to  reason  and  contemporary  knowledge, 
so  that  a  man  cannot  believe  in  these  assertions,  this  is 
again  not  religion,  but  only  its  semblance.  If  a  religion 
does  not  bind  up  man's  life  with  tlie  infinite  existence, 
this  is  again  not  a  religion.  Nor  is  that  a  religion  which 
demands  faith  in  propositions  from  which  no  definite 
direction  for  man's  activity  results. 

True  religion  is  man's  relation  to  the  infinite  life  about 
him,  as  established  by  him,  a  relation  which  is  concordant 
with  reason  and  human  knowledge  and  binds  his  life 
up  with  this  Infinity  and  governs  his  acts. 


The  learned  men  of  our  time,  though  nowhere  and  at 
no  time  men  have  lived  without  religion,  say,  like  that 
physician  against  his  will  in  Moli^re's  comedy,  who 
insisted  that  the  liver  was  in  the  left  side,  "  Nous  avons 
change  tout  cela,"  and  that  we  can  and  must  live  without 
religion.  But  religion,  as  it  has  been,  so  it  remains  the 
chief  mover,  the  heart  of  the  life  of  human  societies,  and 
without  it,  as  without  the  heart,  there  can  be  no  rational 
life.  There  has  always  been  a  great  variety  of  religions, 
because  the  expression  of  man's  relation  to  the  Infinite,  to 
God  or  the  gods,  differs  in  time  and  according  to  the 
degree  of  the  development  of  the  various  nations,  but 
never  has  any  society  of  men,  from  the  time  that  men 
have  been  rational  beings,  been  able  to  live  without 
religion,  and  never  has  any  lived  without  it. 

It  is  true,  there  have  been  periods  in  the  life  of  nations 
when  the  existing  religion  was  so  corrupted  and  so  far 
removed  from  life  that  it  no  longer  governed  it.  But  this 
interruption  in  the  action  of  religion  upon  the  lives  of 
men,  which  arrives  for  every  religion  at  a  certain  time, 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION  ?  86 

has  been  only  temporary.  Religion,  like  everything  liv- 
ing, has  the  property  of  being  born,  developing,  aging, 
dying,  again  being  born  and  always  reborn  in  a  more 
perfect  form  than  before.  After  a  period  of  the  highest 
development  of  rehgion  there  always  arrives  a  period  of 
its  weakening  and  stagnation,  after  which  generally  fol- 
lows a  period  of  regeneration  and  of  the  estabhshment  of  a 
more  rational  and  lucid  religious  teaching  than  the  former. 
Such  periods  of  development,  stagnation,  aud  regeneration 
have  existed  in  all  rehgions :  in  the  profound  Brahmin 
rehgion,  in  which,  as  soon  as  it  began  to  age  and  petrify 
in  once  estabhshed  gross  forms  that  deflected  it  from  its 
fundamental  meaning,  there  appeared,  on  the  one  hand, 
the  regeneration  of  Brahminism,  and,  on  the  other,  the 
advanced  teacliing  of  Buddhism,  which  greatly  promoted 
humanity's  conception  of  its  relation  to  the  Infinite.  A 
similar  decadence  happened  in  the  Greek  and  the  Eoman 
rehgions,  and  in  a  similar  way,  after  the  decadence 
had  reached  the  highest  point,  there  appeared  Christi- 
anity. The  same  happened  with  the  ecclesiastic  Chris- 
tianity, which  in  Byzantium  degenerated  into  idolatry 
and  polytheism,  when,  to  counterbalance  the  corrupt 
Christianity,  there  appeared,  on  the  one  hand,  Pauhcian- 
ism,  and,  on  the  other,  in  opposition  to  the  doctrine  about 
the  Trinity  and  the  Holy  Virgin,  strict  Mohammedanism, 
with  its  fundamental  dogma  of  the  one  God.  The  same 
thing  happened  with  Popish  Christianity  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  when  it  called  the  Reformation  into  life.  Thus 
the  periods  when  religions  v/eaken,  as  regards  their  effect 
upon  the  majority  of  men,  are  an  indispensable  condition 
of  the  life  and  the  development  of  all  religious  teachings. 
This  is  due  to  the  fact  that  every  religious  teaching  in 
its  true  sense,  no  matter  how  gross  it  may  be,  always 
establishes  man's  relation  to  the  Infinite,  which  is  the 
same  for  all  men.  Every  religion  recognizes  man  as 
equally  insignificant  in  the  presence  of  the  Infinite,  and 


86  WHAT   IS   RELIGION? 

80  every  religion  always  includes  the  conception  of  the 
equality  of  all  men  before  what  it  considers  to  be  God,  be 
it  the  lightning,  the  wind,  a  tree,  an  animal,  a  hero,  a 
deceased  or  living  king,  as  was  the  case  in  Rome.  Thus 
the  recognition  of  tlie  equality  of  men  is  an  inevitable, 
fundamental  property  of  every  religion.  But  since  in 
reality  there  has  nowhere  and  at  no  time  existed  any 
equality  among  men,  the  moment  there  appeared  such  a 
new  religious  teaching,  which  always  includes  the  recog- 
nition of  the  equality  of  all  men,  those  men  for  whom  the 
inequality  was  advantageous  immediately  set  out  to  con- 
ceal this  fundamental  property  of  the  religious  teaching, 
by  distorting  the  religious  teaching  itself.  This  has  been 
done  wherever  a  new  religious  teaching  has  made  its 
appearance.  And  this  has  generally  happened  uncon- 
sciously, merely  in  consequence'  of  the  fact  that  the  men 
for  whom  the  inequality  was  advantageous,  the  ruling 
men,  the  rich,  in  order  to  feel  themselves  right  in  the 
face  of  the  newly  accepted  teaching,  without  changing 
their  own  condition,  tried  in  every  way  to  ascribe  to  the 
religious  teaching  a  meaning  with  which  the  inequality 
would  be  possible.  But  the  distorted  religion, .  which 
made  it  possible  for  those  who  ruled  others  to  consider 
themselves  right,  was  naturally  transmitted  to  the  masses 
whom  it  impressed  with  the  idea  that  their  submission  to 
the  ruling  people  was  a  demand  of  the  religion  professed 
by  them. 


Every  human  activity  is  evoked  by  three  impelling 
causes,  by  feeling,  by  reason,  and  by  suggestion,  by  that 
property  which  the  physicians  call  hypnosis.  At  times 
a  man  acts  only  under  the  influence  of  feeling,  striving 
to  obtain  what  he  wishes ;  at  other  times  he  acts  under 
the  influence  of  reason  alone,  which  points  out  to  him 
what  lie  ought  to  do ;  at  other  times  again,  and  this  most 


WHAT    IS    EELIGTON?  87 

frequently,  man  acts  because  he  has  suggested  to  himself 
and  has  had  suggested  to  him  by  others  a  certain  action 
and  he  unconsciously  submits  to  this  suggestion.  Under 
normal  conditions  of  life  all  three  factors  take  part  in 
man's  activity.  Feeling  draws  man  toward  a  certain 
action,  reason  verifies  the  conformity  of  this  action  with 
what  surrounds  it,  with  the  past  and  the  assumed  future, 
and  suggestion  compels  man,  without  feeling  or  thinking, 
to  commit  actt  that  are  evoked  by  feeHug  and  approved 
by  reason.  If  there  were  no  feeling,  a  man  would  not 
undertake  anything ;  if  there  were  no  reason,  a  man 
would  at  once  abandon  himself  to  many  contradictory 
feelings,  which  would  be  harmful  both  to  him  and  to 
others ;  if  there  were  no  property  of  submitting  to  one's 
own  suggestion  and  to  the  suggestion  of  others,  a  man 
would  be  obhged  without  cessation  to  experience  the  feel- 
ing which  has  impelled  him  to  a  certain  course  of  actions, 
and  constantly  to  strain  his  reason  for  the  verification  of 
the  correctness  of  his  feeling.  For  this  reason  all  three 
factors  are  necessary  for  the  simplest  human  activity. 
When  a  man  walks  from  one  place  to  another,  this  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  his  feeling  has  impelled  him  to  go  from 
one  place  to  another,  his  reason  has  approved  of  this 
intention  and  has  prescribed  the  means  of  execution  (in 
the  given  case  the  walking  along  a  certain  path),  and  the 
muscles  of  the  body  obey,  and  the  man  marches  in 
the  direction  prescribed.  During  the  time  that  he  is 
walking  his  feeling  and  reason  are  set  free  for  another 
activity,  which  could  not  be,  if  there  did  not  exist  the 
possibility  of  submitting  to  suggestion.  This  is  what 
takes  place  in  all  human  activities  as  well  as  in  the  chief 
activity,  the  religious.  Feeling  evokes  the  necessity  of 
establishing  man's  relation  to  God ;  reason  defines  this 
relation ;  suggestion  impels  man  to  act  in  accordance 
with  this  relation.  This  is  true  only  so  long  as  religion 
is  not  subject  to  distortion.     The  moment  this  distortion 


88  WHAT    IS    RELIGION? 

begins,  suggestion  becomes  stronger  and  stronger,  and  the 
activity  of  feeling  and  reason  grows  weaker,  Tlie  means 
of  suggestion  are  always  and  everywhere  the  same.  These 
means  consist  in  making  use  of  that  condition  of  man 
when  he  is  most  receptive  for  suggestion  (childhood, 
important  events  in  life, —  death,  birth,  marriage),  and  in 
affecting  him  through  productions  of  art,  —  architecture, 
sculpture,  painting,  music,  dramatic  performances,  —  and 
in  this  condition  of  susceptibility,  whicf-  resembles  the 
one  obtained  over  separate  persons  in  a  state  of  half- 
sleep,  in  suggesting  to  him  what  is  desired  by  the  sug- 
gesters. 

This  phenomenon  may  be  observed  in  the  case  of  all  the 
ancient  creeds :  in  the  exalted  teaching  of  the  Brahmins, 
which  degenerated  into  a  coarse  worship  of  numberless 
representations  in  various  temples,  with  the  accompani- 
ment of  singing  and  incense ;  in  the  ancient  Jewish  re- 
ligion, which  was  preached  by  the  prophets  and  which 
changed  into  the  worship  of  God  in  a  magnificent  tem- 
ple, with  solemn  songs  and  processions ;  in  exalted  Bud- 
dhism, which,  with  its  monasteries  and  representations  of 
Buddha,  and  its  endless  solemn  rites,  has  changed  into 
the  mysterious  Lamaism ;  in  Taoism,  with  its  sorcery 
and  incantations. 

In  all  religious  teachings,  when  they  are  on  the  point 
of  becoming  corrupt,  their  guardians  of  the  religious 
teachings  have  always  employed  every  effort  in  bringing 
men  into  a  condition  of  a  weakened  activity  of  reason, 
and  in  suggesting  to  them  what  tbey  themselves  want. 
What  it  has  been  necessary  to  suggest  in  all  religions  has 
been  the  same  three  propositions  which  serve  as  the  foun- 
dation of  all  those  distortions  to  which  the  aging  religions 
have  been  subjected :  in  the  first  place,  that  there  is  a 
special  kind  of  men  who  alone  can  be  the  mediators  be- 
tween man  and  God  or  the  gods ;  in  the  second  place, 
that  miracles  have  taken  place  and  that  these  prove  an(i 


WHAT   IS   KELIGION?  89 

confirm  the  authenticity  of  what  the  mediators  between 
man  and  God  say ;  and,  in  the  third  place,  that  there  are 
certain  words,  which  are  repeated  by  word  of  mouth  or 
are  written  down  in  books,  and  which  express  the  invari- 
able will  of  God  or  the  gods,  and  so  are  sacred  and  infal- 
lible. The  moment  these  propositions  are  accepted  under 
the  influence  of  the  hypnosis,  everything  else  which  the 
mediators  between  God  and  men  may  say  is  accepted  as 
the  holy  truth,  and  the  chief  aim  of  the  distortion  of  relig- 
ion is  attained,  that  is,  not  only  the  concealment  of  the 
law  of  the  equality  of  men,  but  also  the  establishment 
and  confirmation  of  the  highest  inequality,  the  division 
into  castes,  the  separation  into  men  and  "goys,"  into 
orthodox  and  infidel,  into  saints  and  sinners.  This  very 
thing  has  also  happened  in  Christianity :  there  was  recog- 
nized the  absolute  inequality  of  men  among  themselves, 
who  as  regards  the  comprehensions  of  the  teaching  were 
divided  into  clergy  and  laity,  and  as  regards  the  social 
position  were  divided  into  men  who  had  the  power  and 
those  who  must  submit  to  them,  —  and  this  inequality 
according  to  Paul's  doctrine  is  recognized  as  established 
by  God  himself. 


The  inequality  of  men,  not  only  of  the  clergy  and  the 
laity,  but  also  of  the  rich  and  the  poor,  masters  and 
slaves,  was  estaljlished  in  the  ecclesiastic  Christian  relig- 
ion in  just  as  definite  and  glaring  a  form  as  in  the  other 
religions.  And  yet,  to  judge  from  the  data  which  we 
have  concerning  the  primitive  condition  of  Christianity, 
according  to  the  teaching  expressed  in  the  gospels,  it 
seems,  all  the  chief  methods  of  distortion  practised  in  the 
other  religious  were  foreseen,  and  a  warning  against  them 
is  clearly  expressed.  In  relation  to  the  class  of  the 
priests  it  says  directly  that  no  man  can  be  the  teacher  of 
another   (do  not  call  yourselves   fathers  and   teacliers) ; 


90  WHAT    IS    IlELIGION? 

in  relation  to  ascribing  a  sacred  significance  to  books  it 
says  that  what  is  important  is  the  spirit,  and  not  the 
letter,  and  that  men  must  not  believe  in  the  traditions  of 
men,  and  that  the  whole  law  and  the  prophets,  that  is,  all 
the  books  which  were  regarded  as  sacred  writings,  re- 
duce themselves  only  to  this,  that  we  should  do  to  our 
neighbours  as  we  wish  that  our  neighbours  should  do  to 
us.  If  nothing  is  said  against  miracles,  and  miracles 
are  described  in  the  Gospel  as  having  been  practised  by 
Jesus,  it  is  none  the  less  to  be  seen  from  the  whole  spirit 
of  the  teaching  that  tbe  truth  of  Jesus'  teaching  is  not  based 
on  the  miracles,  but  on  the  teaching  itself.  ("  He  who 
wants  to  know  whether  my  teaching  be  true,  let  him  do 
as  I  do.")  Above  all  things,  the  equality  of  all  men  was 
proclaimed  by  Christianity,  not  as  a  deduction  from  men's 
relation  to  the  Infinite,  but  as  a  fundamental  teaching  of 
the  brotherhood  of  all  men,  since  all  men  are  recognized 
to  be  sons  of  God.  For  this  reason,  it  would  seem,  it 
was  impossible  so  to  distort  Christianity  as  to  destroy  the 
recognition  of  the  equality  of  men  among  themselves. 

But  the  human  mind  is  inventive,  and  an  entirely  new 
means  ("  true"  as  the  French  say)  was  thought  out, 
maybe  unconsciously  or  semiconsciously,  for  making  the 
Gospel  warning  and  the  obvious  proclamation  of  the 
equality  of  aU  men  ineffective.  This  "  true "  consists 
in  ascribing  an  infallibility,  not  only  to  a  certain  letter, 
but  also  to  a  certain  assembly  of  men,  called  the  church, 
which  has  the  right  to  transmit  this  iufalhbility  to  men 
chosen  by  them. 

A  short  addition  was  invented  for  the  Gospels,  which 
was,  that  Christ,  in  ascending  to  heaven,  transmitted  to 
certain  men  the  exclusive  right,  not  only  to  teach  men 
the  divine  truth  (according  to  the  letter  of  the  Gospel 
verse  He  also  transmitted  the  right  to  be  immune  against 
serpents,  scorpions,  and  fire,  though  this  right  is  gener- 
ally not  made  use  of),  but  also  to  make  men  saved  or 


WHAT   IS   RELIGION?  91 

unsaved,  and,  above  all  else,  to  transmit  this  right  to  other 
men.  As  soon  as  the  concept  of  the  church  was  firmly- 
established,  all  the  Gospel  tenets  which  interfered  with 
the  distortion  became  inactive,  because  the  church  was 
superior  to  reason  and  to  the  Scriptures,  which  were  con- 
sidered to  be  sacred.  Eeason  was  recognized  to  be  the 
source  of  error,  and  the  Gospel  was  not  interpreted  as  was 
demanded  by  common  sense,  but  as  was  wanted  by  those 
who  composed  the  church. 

Thus  the  previous  three  methods  of  the  distortion  of 
the  religions,  priesthood,  miracles,  and  the  infallibility 
of  the  Scriptures,  were  recognized  and  in  full  force  in 
Christianity,  as  elsewhere.  The  legitimacy  of  the  exist- 
ence of  mediators  between  God  and  men  was  recognized, 
because  the  necessity  and  the  legitimacy  of  the  mediators 
was  recognized  by  the  church ;  the  reality  of  miracles  was 
recognized,  because  the  infallible  church  bore  witness  to 
it ;  the  Bible  was  recognized  as  being  holy,  because  the 
church  so  recognized  it. 

Christianity  was  corrupted  like  all  the  other  religions, 
but  with  this  difference  that,  for  the  very  reason  that 
Christianity  with  peculiar  clearness  proclaimed  the  funda- 
mental proposition  about  the  equality  of  all  men,  as  sons 
of  God,  it  was  necessary  to  make  a  particular  effort  to 
distort  this  teaching,  in  order  to  conceal  its  fundamental 
proposition.  This  was  done  with  the  aid  of  the  concept 
of  the  church,  and  it  was  done  to  an  extent  to  which  it 
was  not  carried  in  any  other  religious  teaching.  Indeed, 
never  has  any  religion  preached  propositions  so  discordant 
with  reason  and  with  the  contemporary  knowledge  of 
men  and  so  immoral,  as  those  which  are  preached  by  the 
ecclesiastic  Christianity.  To  say  nothing  of  all  the  insi- 
pidities of  the  Old  Testament,  such  as  the  creation  of 
light  before  the  sun,  the  creation  of  the  world  six  thou- 
sand years  ago,  the  putting  of  all  the  animals  in  an  ark, 
and  of  all  kinds  of  immoral  abominations,  such  as  the 


92  WHAT    IS    RELIGIOJS"? 

slaying  of  children  and  of  whole  settlements  by  the  com- 
mand of  God ;  to  say  nothing  of  that  stupid  sacrament, 
about  which  Voltaire  said  that  there  exist  all  kinds  of 
stupid  religious  doctrines,  but  that  there  never  existed 
one,  in  which  the  chief  religious  act  consists  in  eating 
one's  own  God,  —  what  can  be  more  senseless  than  that 
the  Mother  of  God  is  both  a  mother  and  a  virgin,  that  the 
heaven  opened  and  a  voice  was  heard  from  it,  that  Christ 
flew  to  heaven  and  there  sits  somewhere  on  the  right  of 
the  Father,  or  that  God  is  one  and  three,  not  three  gods, 
like  Brahma,  Vishnu,  and  Shiva,  but  one  and  at  the  same 
time  three?  And  what  can  be  more  immoral  than  that 
terrible  teaching  according  to  which  God,  being  evil  and 
revengeful,  punishes  all  men  for  Adam's  sin,  and  for  their 
salvation  sends  His  son  down  upon  earth,  knowing  in 
advance  that  the  men  wiU  kill  Him  aud  wiU  be  cursed  for 
that ;  and  this,  that  the  salvation  of  men  from  sin  consists 
in  being  christened  or  in  believing  that  all  that  actually 
happened  thus  and  that  the  Son  of  God  was  killed  by 
men  for  the  salvation  of  men,  and  that  those  who  do  not 
believe  this  will  be  punished  by  Him  with  eternal  tor- 
ments ?  Thus,  to  say  nothing  of  what  is  considered  by 
some  to  be  an  addition  to  the  chief  dogmas  of  this  relis- 
ion,  such  as  all  the  beliefs  in  all  kinds  of  relics,  the 
images  of  all  kinds  of  Holy  Virgins,  the  supplications 
directed  to  all  kinds  of  saints,  according  to  their  special- 
ties; to  say  nothing  of  the  Protestants'  doctrine  about 
predetermination,  —  the  universally  recognized  founda- 
tions of  this  religion,  as  established  by  the  Nicene  symbol, 
are  so  stupid  and  immoral,  and  are  carried  to  such  a  con- 
tradiction to  sound  human  feeling  and  reason,  that  people 
cannot  believe  in  them.  Men  may  with  their  lips  repeat 
certain  words,  but  they  cannot  believe  in  what  makes  no 
sense.  It  is  possible  to  say  with  our  lips,  "  I  believe 
in  this,  that  the  world  was  created  six  thousand  years 
ago,"  or  to  say,  "  I  believe  that  Christ  flew  to  heaven  and 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION  ?  93 

is  sitting  on  the  riglit  of  the  Father,  or  that  God  is  one 
and  at  the  same  time  three ; "  but  no  one  is  able  to  believe 
in  all  that,  because  these  words  make  no  sense.  And  so 
the  men  of  our  world,  who  profess  the  distorted  Christian- 
ity, in  reahtj  do  not  believe  in  anything.  In  this  doe"* 
the  peculiarity  of  our  time  consist. 


The  men  of  our  time  do  not  beheve  in  anything,  and 
yet,  according  to  that  false  definition  of  faith  which  they 
take  from  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  which  is  incor- 
rectly ascribed  to  Paul,  they  imagine  that  they  have  a 
faith.  Faith,  according  to  this  detiuition,  is  the  realiza- 
tion (v7r6(TTa(n<;)  of  things  hoped  for  and  the  assurance 
(eXeyx^"^)  of  things  unseen.  But,  to  say  nothing  of 
this,  that  faith  cannot  be  the  reahzation  of  things  hoped 
for,  since  faith  is  a  spiritual  condition,  while  the  realiza- 
tion of  things  hoped  for  is  an  external  event,  faith  is  as 
little  the  assurance  of  things  unseen,  since  this  assurance, 
as  it  says  in  the  further  elucidation,  is  based  on  trust  in 
the  testimony  of  truth,  whereas  trust  and  faith  are  two 
different  concepts.  Faith  is  not  hope  and  not  trust,  but  a 
special  spiritual  condition.  Faith  is  man's  recognition  of 
his  position  in  the  world,  such  as  obliges  him  to  commit 
certain  acts.  A  man  acts  in  accordance  with  his  faith, 
not  because,  as  it  says  in  the  catechism,  he  believes  in  the 
things  unseen,  but  only  because,  having  determined  his 
position  in  the  world,  he  naturally  acts  in  correspondence 
with  this  position.  Thus  an  agriculturist  works  the  land 
and  a  navigator  navigates  the  seas,  not  because,  as  it  says 
in  the  catechism,  either  of  them  believes  in  the  unseen, 
or  because  he  hopes  to  get  a  reward  for  his  activity  (this 
hope  exists,  but  it  does  not  guide  him),  but  because  he 
considers  his  activity  to  be  his  calling.  Even  so  a  relig- 
ious man  acts  in  a  certain  manner,  not  because  he  believes 


94  WHAT    IS    RELIGION? 

in  the  invisible  or  expects  a  reward  for  his  activity,  but 
because,  having  come  to  understand  his  position  in  the 
world,  he  naturally  acts  iu  conformity  with  this  position. 
If  a  man  has  determined  his  position  in  society  by  being 
a  labourer,  or  an  artisan,  or  an  official,  or  a  merchant,  he 
considers  it  necessary  to  work,  and  he  works  as  a  labourer, 
an  artisan,  an  official,  or  a  merchant.     Even  so  a  man  in 
general,  having  in  one  way  or  another  defined  his  position 
in  the  world,  inevitably  and  naturally  acts  in  conformity 
with  this  definition  (sometimes  not  even  with  this  defini- 
tion, but  with  a  dim  consciousness).     Thus,  for  example, 
a  man,  having  determined  his  position  in  the  world  by 
assuming  that  he  is  a  member  of  God's   chosen  nation, 
who,  to  enjoy  God's  protection,  must  fulfil  the  demands 
of  this   God,  will  live  in  such  a  way  as  to  fulfil   these 
demands  ;  while  another  man,  having  determined  his  posi- 
tion by  assuming  that  he  has  been  passing  through  vari- 
ous forms  of  existence  and  that  his  better  or  worse  future 
will  depend  on  his  acts,  will  in  his  life  be  guided  by  this 
determination  ;  and  a  third  man,  who  has  determined  his 
position  by  assuming  that  he  is  a  fortuitous  combination 
of  atoms,  in  which  the  fire  has  been  temporarily  kindled, 
and  that  this  fire  will  be  destroyed  for  ever,  will  act  dif- 
ferently from  the  first  two. 

The  conduct  of  these  men  will  be  quite  different,  be- 
cause they  have  variously  defined  their  positions,  that 
is,  because  they  believe  differently.  Faith  is  the  same  as 
religion,  with  this  difference,  that  by  the  word  "  religion  " 
we  mean  the  phenomenon  perceived  externally,  while  by 
"  faith "  we  mean  the  same  phenomenon  as  experienced 
inwardly  by  man.  Faith  is  man's  cognized  relation  to 
the  infinite  world,  from  which  results  the  direction  of  his 
activity.  Consequently  true  faith  is  never  irrational,  or 
discordant  with  the  existing  knowledge,  and  its  property 
cannot  consist  in  supernaturalness  and  senselessness,  as 
some  think   and   as   was    expressed  ,by    a  father  of  the 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION  ?  95 

church,  "  Credo  quia  absurdum."  Ou  the  contrary,  the  as- 
sertions of  true  faith,  though  they  cannot  be  proved,  not 
only  never  contain  auytliing  contrary  to  reason  and  discord- 
ant with  men's  knowledge,  but  always  elucidate  what  in 
life  without  the  propositions  of  faith  presents  itself  as 
irrational  and  contradictory. 

Thus,  for  example,  an  ancient  Jew,  w'ho  believed  that 
there  was  a  supreme,  eternal,  almighty  being  who  created 
the  world,  the  earth,  the  animals,  and  man,  and  so  forth, 
and  would  protect  his  nation,  if  the  nation  w^ould  fulfil 
his  law,  did  not  believe  in  something  irrational  and  dis- 
cordant with  his  knowledge,  but,  on  the  contrary,  this 
behef  explained  to  him  many  otherwise  inexplicable  phe- 
nomena of  life. 

Similarly  a  Hindoo,  who  believes  that  our  souls  were 
in  animals  and  that,  according  to  our  good  or  bad  life, 
they  will  pass  into  higher  or  lower  animals,  by  means  of 
this  faith  explains  to  himself  many  phenomena  which 
without  it  are  inexplicable  to  him.  The  same  is  true  of  a 
man  who  regards  life  as  an  evil,  and  the  aim  of  his  life  to 
be  peace,  which  is  attainable  by  the  destruction  of  desires. 
He  does  not  believe  in  something  irrational,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  in  what  makes  his  world-conception  more  ra- 
tional than  it  was  without  this  faith.  The  same  holds 
good  in  the  case  of  a  real  Christian,  who  believes  that 
God  is  the  spiritual  father  of  all  men  and  that  the  highest 
good  of  man  is  attained  when  he  recognizes  his  sonhood 
to  God  and  the  brotherhood  of  all  miCn  among  themselves. 
All  these  beliefs,  though  incapable  of  proof,  are  not  irra- 
tional in  themselves,  but,  on  the  contrary,  lend  a  more 
rational  meaning  to  the  phenomena  of  life,  which,  without 
these  beliefs,  seem  irraticmal  and  contradictory.  Besides, 
all  these  beliefs,  in  determining  man's  position  in  the 
world,  inevitably  demand  certain  acts  to  correspond  to 
this  position.  Therefore,  if  a  religious  teaching  asserts 
senseless  propositions  which  explain  nothing  and  only  add 


96  WHAT    IS    RELIGION? 

to  the  confusion  of  the  comprehension  of  life,  this  is  not 
faith,  but  a  distortion  of  it,  such  as  has  lost  the  chief 
properties  of  the  true  faith  and  not  only  does  not  demand 
anything  of  men,  but  even  means  to  them  a  ministration. 
One  of  the  chief  distinctions  between  a  true  faith  and  its 
distortion  is  this,  that  with  the  distortion  of  faith  a  man 
demands  of  God  that,  in  return  for  his  sacrifices  and 
prayers,  God  shall  fulfil  his  wishes,  shall  serve  man,  but 
with  the  true  faith  a  man  feels  that  God  demands  of 
him,  man,  the  fulfilment  of  His  will,  —  that  He  demands 
that  man  shall  serve  God. 

Not  only  do  the  men  of  our  time  not  have  this  faith, 
but  they  do  not  even  know  what  it  is,  and  by  faith  they 
mean  either  the  oral  repetition  of  what  is  given  out  to 
them  as  the  essence  of  faith,  or  the  performance  of  rites 
which  may  help  them  to  receive  what  they  wish  for,  as 
they  are  taught  to  believe  by  the  ecclesiastic  Christianity. 

8 

The  men  of  our  time  live  without  any  faith.  One  part 
of  mankind,  the  cultured,  rich  minority,  having  freed 
itself  from  the  ecclesiastic  suggestion,  believes  in  nothing, 
because  it  considers  every  faith  to  be  either  foolish  or  a 
useful  instrument  for  exerting  power  over  the  masses. 
But  the  vast  majority  of  the  poor  and  the  uncultured, 
who,  with  the  rare  exceptions  of  men  who  actually  be- 
lieve, are  under  the  influence  of  the  hypnosis,  think  that 
they  believe  in  what  is  suggested  to  them  under  the  guise 
of  faith,  but  that  is  not  faith,  because  it  does  not  explain 
to  man  his  position  in  the  world,  and  only  confuses  it 
more  than  ever.  Of  this  position  and  mutual  relation 
of  the  unbelieving,  hypocritical  minority  and  the  hypno- 
tized majority  is  the  life  of  our  world,  which  calls  itself 
Christian,  composed.  And  this  life,  both  of  the  minority, 
which  holds  in  its  hands  the  means  of  the  hypnotizationj 


WHAT   IS   RELIGION  ?  97 

and  of  the  hypnotized  majority,  is  terrible,  on  account  of 
the  cruelty  and  immorality  of  the  ruling  men  and  of  the 
crushed  condition  and  stultification  of  the  .vast  labouring 
masses.  Xever,  at  no  time  of  the  religious  decline,  has 
the  neglect  and  oblivion  of  the  chief  property  of  every 
religion,  especially  the  Christian,  that  of  the  equality  of 
men,  reached  such  a  stage  as  in  our  day.  The  chief  cause 
of  the  terrible  present-day  cruelty  of  man  toward  man  is 
due,  not  only  to  the  complete  absence  of  religion,  but  also 
to  the  refined  complexity  of  life,  which  conceals  from  men 
the  consequences  of  their  acts.  No  matter  how  cruel  an 
Attila,  a  Dzhingis-Khan,  and  their  men  may  have  been,  so 
long  as  they  personally  killed  people,  the  process  of  killing 
must  have  been  disagreeable  to  them,  and  still  more  dis- 
agreeable the  consequences  of  the  killing,  —  the  sobs  of  the 
relatives,  the  presence  of  the  corpses.  Thus  the  conse- 
quences of  the  cruelty  moderated  cruelty  itself.  But  in  our 
time  we  kill  people  through  such  a  complicated  system  of 
transmission,  and  the  consequences  of  our  cruelty  are  so 
carefully  removed  and  concealed  from  us,  that  there  are 
no  actions  to  restrain  cruelty,  and  the  cruelty  of  one  set  of 
men  against  another  has  been  growing  and  growing,  and 
has  in  our  time  reached  limits  never  reached  before. 

I  think  that  if  in  our  time,  not  a  Nero,  who  is  by  all 
men  recognized  as  a  malefactor,  but  the  simplest  kind  of 
an  enterprising  man  wanted  to  make  a  pond  of  human 
blood  for  the  sick,  the  wealthy,  to  bathe  in,  by  the  pre- 
scription of  learned  physicians,  he  would  be  able  without 
molestation  to  arrange  this  matter,  provided  he  did  so 
within  decent,  accepted  forms,  that  is,  provided  he  did 
not  forcibly  compel  men  to  draw  their  blood,  but  placed 
them  in  such  a  condition  that  they  could  not  live  without 
doing  so,  and,  besides,  invited  the  clergy  and  the  learned, 
the  first  —  to. sanctify  the  new  pond,  as  they  sanctify 
cannon,  guns,  prisons,  gibbets,  and  the  second  —  to  dis- 
cover the  proof  of  the  necessity  and  legality  of  such  an 


98  WHAT    IS    RELIGION? 

establishment,  just  as  they  discovered  the  proof  of  the 
necessity  of  wars  and  of  houses  of  prostitution.  The  fun- 
damental principle  of  every  religion  —  the  equality  of  all 
men  among  themselves  —  has  been  so  forgotten,  aban- 
doned, and  choked  up  by  all  kinds  of  stupid  dogmas  in 
the  professed  religion,  and  in  science  this  same  inequality 
has,  in  the  form  of  the  struggle  for  existence  and  the  sur- 
vival of  the  fittest,  been  to  such  an  extent  recognized  as 
a  necessary  condition  of  life,  that  the  destruction  of  mil- 
lions of  human  lives  for  the  advantage  of  the  minority  of 
the  ruling  men  is  regarded  as  a  most  common  and  neces- 
sary phenomenon  of  life,  and  is  constantly  taking  place. 

The  men  of  our  time  never  get  tired  boasting  of  those 
brilliant,  unusual,  colossal  results  achieved  by  technical 
art  in  the  nineteenth  century. 

Without  any  doubt  there  has  never  in  history  existed 
such  material  progress,  that  is,  such  a  command  of  the 
forces  of  Nature,  as  has  been  achieved  in  the  nineteenth 
century.  But  there  is  also  no  doubt  concerning  this,  that 
there  has  never  in  history  been  an  example  of  sucli  an 
immoral  life,  free  from  all  the  forces  which  restrain  the 
animal  tendencies  of  man,  as  the  one  which  our  Christian 
humanity  lives,  growing  more  and  more  beastly  all  the 
time.  The  material  progress  achieved  by  the  men  of 
the  nineteenth  century  is  really  great ;  but  this  progress 
has  been  bought  by  a  neglect  of  the  most  elementary 
demands  of  morality,  such  as  humanity  never  attained, 
not  even  in  the  time  of  Dzhingis-Khan,  or  Attila,  or 
Nero. 

Unquestionably  it  is  all  very  nice  to  have  ironclads, 
railways,  prmting,  tunnels,  phonographs,  Rdntgen  rays, 
and  so  forth.  All  that  is  very  nice,  but  not  less  nice, 
not  to  be  compared  with  anything,  as  Ruskin  said,  are 
the  human  lives  which  now  are  mercilessly  wasted  by  the 
million  in  order  to  acquire  ironclads,  railways,  tunnels, 
which  not  only  do  not  adorn  life,  but  even  distort  it. 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION?  99 

lu  reply  to  this  we  are  generally  told  that  they  are 
now  inventing  and  in  time  will  have  invented  such 
appliances  that  men's  lives  will  not  be  wasted  as  they 
are  uow,  but  that  is  not  true.  So  long  as  men  do  not 
consider  all  men  to  be  their  brothers,  and  do  not  consider 
human  lives  to  be  the  most  sacred  thing,  a  thing  which 
cannot  be  violated,  and  the  maintenance  of  which  should 
be  considered  the  first,  most  urgent  duty,  that  is,  if  men 
will  not  act  religiously  toward  one  another,  they  will 
always  waste  each  other's  lives  for  their  own  personal 
advantages.  No  fool  will  consent  to  waste  thousands,  if 
he  is  able  to  attain  the  same  end  by  spending  one  hundred 
with  the  addition  of  a  few  human  lives  which  are  in  his 
power.  In  Chicago  approximately  the  same  number  of  men 
are  killed  every  year  by  the  railroads,  and  the  owners  of 
the  roads  systematically  introduce  no  appliances  by  which 
people  may  not  be  killed,  having  figured  out  that  the  dam- 
ages paid  every  year  to  the  families  of  the  injured  are  less 
than  the  interest  on  the  sum  necessary  for  such  appliances. 

It  is  very  likely  that  the  men  who  ruin  human  lives 
for  their  advantage  will  be  put  to  shame  by  public  opinion 
or  will  be  compelled  to  introduce  these  appliances.  But  so 
long  as  men  are  irreligious  and  do  their  business  before  men 
and  not  before  God,  they  will,  though  introducing  life-saving 
appliances  in  one  place,  again  use  human  lives  in  another 
business,  as  being  the  most  profitable  material  for  gains. 

It  is  easy  to  conquer  Nature  and  to  make  a  lot  of 
railways,  steamships,  museums,  and  so  forth,  if  human 
lives  are  not  spared.  The  Egyptian  kings  prided  them- 
selves on  their  pyramids,  and  we  admire  them,  forgetting 
the  millions  of  slaves'  lives  that  were  ruined  in  these 
structures.  Even  so  we  admire  our  exposition  palaces, 
ironclads,  cables,  forgetting  how  we  pay  for  all  that.  We 
could  be  proud  of  it  all,  only  if  it  were  all  done  without 
restraint  by  free  men,  and  not  by  slaves. 

Christian  nations  have  conquered  and  subjugated  the 


100  WHAT    IS    RELIGION? 

American  Indians,  the  Hindoos,  the  Africans,  and  now 
conquer  and  subjugate  the  Chinese,  and  are  proud  of  this. 
But  these  conquests  and  subjugations  are  not  due  to  the 
fact  that  the  Christian  nations  are  spiritually  higher  than 
the  nations  subjugated,  but,  on  the  contrary,  to  the  fact 
that  they  are  spiritually  incomparably  lower  than  they. 
To  say  nothing  of  the  Hindoos  and  the  Chinese,  even  the 
Zulus  have  certain  religious,  obligatory  rules,  which  pre- 
scribe certain  acts  and  forbid  others ;  but  our  Christian 
nations  have  no  such  rules.  Kome  conquered  the  whole 
world  at  the  precise  time  when  it  was  free  from  all 
religion.  The  same  thing,  though  in  a  much  higher  degree, 
is  now  taking  place  with  the  Christian  nations.  They  are 
all  in  the  same  condition,  without  religion,  and  so,  in  spite 
of  the  inner  discord,  they  are  all  united  in  one  federative 
band  of  robbers,  in  which  theft,  pillage,  debauchery, 
the  murder  of  individual  persons,  and  mass  murder  are 
not  only  committed  without  the  slightest  pricks  of  con- 
science, but  also  with  the  greatest  self-satisfaction,  as 
happened  lately  in  China.  Some  beheve  in  nothing  and 
are  proud  of  it ;  others  pretend  to  be  beheving  in  what 
they,  for  the  sake  of  their  advantage,  under  the  guise  of 
faith,  impress  upon  the  people ;  and  others  again,  the  vast 
majority,  all  the  masses,  accept  as  faith  that  suggestion 
under  which  they  are,  and  slavishly  submit  to  everything 
which  is  demanded  of  them  by  the  commanding  and 
unbelieving  suggesters. 

These  suggesters  ask  for  the  same  thing  that  was  asked 
for  by  all  the  Neros,  who  tried  in  some  way  to  fill  the 
void  of  their  lives,  —  the  gratification  of  their  senseless, 
all-pervading  luxury.  Now  luxury  is  obtained  in  no  other 
way  than  by  the  enslavement  of  men ;  the  moment  there 
is  enslavement,  luxury  is  increased ;  and  the  increase 
of  luxury  invariably  brings  with  it  the  intensification  of 
enslavement,  because  it  is  only  the  hungry,  the  cold,  the 
needy,  who  can  work  all  their  lives  at  something  that 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION  ?  lUl 

they  do  not  need,  but  which  is  needed  for  the  amusement 
of  their  masters. 


In  the  sixth  chapter  of  Genesis  there  is  a  profound 
passage,  in  which  the  writer  of  the  Bible  says  that  before 
the  flood  God,  seeing  that  the  spirit  which  He  had  given 
men  to  serve  Him  with  had  been  used  by  them  to  serve 
their  own  flesh,  became  so  angered  at  them  that  Re  was 
sorry  for  having  created  them  and,  before  destroying  men, 
decided  to  shorten  their  lives  to  120  years.  It  is  precisely 
the  thing  for  which,  according  to  the  words  of  the  Bible, 
God  grew  angry  and  shortened  their  lives,  that  has  now 
happened  with  the  men  of  our  Christian  world. 

Reason  is  that  force  of  men  which  determines  their 
relation  to  the  world ;  and  since  the  relation  of  all  men 
to  the  world  is  one  and  the  same,  the  establishment  of 
this  relation,  that  is,  religion,  unites  men.  But  the  union 
of  all  men  gives  them  the  highest  physical  and  spiritual 
good  accessible  to  them. 

The  perfect  union,  in  the  perfect,  highest  reason,  and 
so  the  perfect  good,  is  an  ideal  toward  wliieh  humanity  is 
striving ;  but  every  religion  which  gives  the  men  of  a 
certain  society  the  same  answers  to  their  questions  as  to 
what  the  world  is  and  what  they,  the  men  in  this  world, 
are,  unites  men  and  so  brings  them  nearer  to  the  realiza- 
tion of  the  good.  But  when  reason,  abstracting  itself  from 
its  proper  activity,  —  the  establishment  of  its  relation  to 
God  and  its  activity  in  correspondence  with  this  relation, 
—  is  directed,  not  only  upon  the  ministration  of  the  flesh 
and  on  an  evil  struggle  with  men  and  with  other  beings, 
but  also  upon  justifying  this  its  bad  life,  which  is  contrary 
to  man's  properties  and  destination,  then  there  result 
those  terrible  calamities  from  which  the  majority  of  men 
suffer  now,  and  that  condition  under  which  a  return  to  a 
rational  and  good  hfe  presents  itself  as  almost  impossible. 


102  WUAT    IS    RELIGION? 

The  pagans  who  are  united  among  themselves  by  the 
grossest  religious  teaching  are  much  nearer  to  the  cognition 
of  the  truth  than  the  so-called  Christian  nations  of  our 
time  who  live  without  any  religion,  and  in  the  midst  of 
whom  the  most  advanced  men  are  sure  and  impress  upon 
others  that  there  is  no  need  of  religion  and  that  it  is  much 
better  to  hve  without  any  religion. 

Among  the  pagans  there  may  be  found  men  who,  hav- 
ing come  to  comprehend  the  lack  of  a  correspondence  be- 
tween their  faith  and  the  ever  increasing  knowledge  and 
demands  of  their  reason,  will  work  out  or  adopt  a  relig- 
ious teaching  which  is  more  in  accord  with  the  spiritual 
coudition  of  the  people,  and  in  which  they  will  be  joined 
by  their  compatriots  and  fellow  believers.  But  the  men 
of  our  world,  some  of  whom  look  upon  religion  as  an 
instrument  for  ruling  men,  while  others  regard  religion  as 
a  piece  of  foolishness,  and  others  again,  the  vast  majority 
of  the  people,  being  under  the  influence  of  a  gross  decep- 
tion, think  that  they  are  in  possession  of  the  true  religion, 
become  impermeable  for  every  forward  movement  and 
approximation  to  the  truth. 

Proud  of  their  perfections,  which  are  necessary  ,for  a 
physical  life,  and  of  their  refined,  barren  reasoning,  which 
has  for  its  purpose  to  prove,  not  only  their  own  righteous- 
ness, but  also  their  superiority  over  all  nations  during  all 
periods  of  history,  they  sink  in  their  ignorance  and  de- 
pravity, fully  convinced  that  they  are  standing  upon  such 
a  height  as  has  never  before  been  reached  by  humanity, 
and  that  every  forward  step  of  theirs  on  the  road  of 
ignorance  and  depravity  raises  them  to  a  greater  height 
of  enlightenment  and  progress. 

10 

It  is  proper  for  man  to  establish  an  agreement  be- 
tween his    bodily  —  physical  —  and    rational  —  spiritual 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION?  103 

. —  activity.  A  mau  cauuot  be  satisfied,  so  long  as  this 
agreement  has  not  been  estabhshed  in  one  way  or  another. 
This  agreemeut  is  estabHslied  iu  two  ways :  one,  when  a 
man  with  his  reason  determines  the  necessity  or  desira- 
bihty  of  a  certain  act  or  acts,  and  then  acts  in  con- 
formity with  the  decision  of  his  reason,  and  the  other, 
when  a  mau  commits  acts  under  the  influence  of  feeling, 
and  then  invents  a  mental  explanation  ur  justification  for 
them. 

The  first  way  of  harmonizing  the  acts  with  reason  is 
characteristic  of  men  who  profess  some  religion  and  who, 
on  the  basis  of  its  tenets,  know  what  acts  they  should 
perform,  and  what  not.  The  second  way  is  characteristic 
chiefly  of  irreligious  men,  who  have  no  common  basis  for 
the  determination  of  the  value  of  their  acts,  and  who, 
therefore,  always  establish  an  agreement  between  their 
reason  and  their  acts,  not  by  a  subordination  of  their  acts 
to  reason,  but  by  this,  that,  having  committed  an  act  on 
the  basis  of  a  sentimental  infatuation,  they  later  employ 
reason  for  the  purpose  of  justifying  their  acts. 

A  rehgious  man,  knowing  what  in  his  activity  and  in 
the  activity  of  other  men  is  good  or  bad,  and  why  one 
thing  is  good  and  another  bad,  if  he  sees  the  contradiction 
between  the  demands  of  his  reason  and  his  acts  or  the 
acts  of  other  men,  uses  all  the  efforts  of  his  reason  to  find 
a  means  for  the  destruction  of  these  contradictious,  that 
is,  for  learning  how  in  the  best  way  to  harmonize  his 
acts  with  the  demands  of  his  reason.  But  an  irreligious 
man,  who  has  no  guidance  in  the  determination  of  the 
value  of  acts,  independently  of  their  agreeableuess,  in 
submitting  to  the  whims  of  his  feelings,  which  are  most 
varied  and  frequently  contradictory,  involuntarily  falls 
into  contradictions ;  but  in  falling  into  these  contradic- 
tions, he  tries  to  solve  or  conceal  them  by  more  or  less 
complex  and  clever,  but  always  false,  reflections.  There- 
fore, while  the  reflections  of  the  religious  people  are  always 


104  WHAT    IS    RELIGION? 

simple,  not  complicated,  and  true,  the  mental  activity  of 
the  irreligious  people  becomes  particularly  refined,  com- 
plicated, and  false. 

I  will  take  the  simplest  kind  of  an  example.  A  man 
is  given  to  debauchery,  that  is,  he  is  not  chaste,  is  false 
to  his  wife,  or,  without  marrying,  abandons  himself  to 
debauchery.  If  he  is  a  religious  man,  he  knows  that  this 
is  bad,  and  the  whole  activity  of  his  mind  is  directed  to 
finding  means  for  freeing  himself  from  the  vice,  —  he 
tries  to  have  no  communion  with  fornicators  and  harlots, 
to  do  more  work,  to  make  his  life  as  severe  as  possible,  to 
avoid  looking  upon  women  as  an  object  of  lust,  and  so 
forth.  All  this  is  very  simple  and  comprehensible  for  all 
men.  But  if  a  depraved  man  is  irreligious,  he  immedi- 
ately invents  all  kinds  of  explanations  as  to  why  he  loves 
women  so  much.  And  here  begin  all  kinds  of  most  com- 
plex, cunning,  refined  reflections  about  the  union  of  souls, 
about  beauty,  about  freedom  in  love,  and  so  forth,  which, 
the  more  they  spread,  the  more  they  confuse  the  matter 
and  conceal  what  is  needed. 

The  same  thing  takes  place  for  irreligious  men  in  all 
spheres  of  activity  and  thought.  To  conceal  the'  inner 
contradictions,  complex,  refined  reflections  are  accumu- 
lated, and  these,  filling  the  mind  with  all  kind  of  bosh, 
abstract  people's  attention  from  what  is  important  and 
essential,  and  make  it  possible  for  them  to  persist  in  the 
lie  in  which  the  men  of  our  time,  without  noticing  it,  live. 

"Men  loved  darkness  rather  than  light,  because  their 
deeds  were  evil,"  it  says  in  the  Gospel.  "  For  every  one 
that  doeth  evil  hateth  the  light,  neither  cometh  to  the 
light,  lest  his  deeds  should  be  reproved  because  they  are 
evil." 

And  so  the  men  of  our  world,  in  consequence  of  the 
absence  of  religion,  having  arranged  for  themselves  a  most 
cruel,  animal,  immoral  life,  have  also  carried  the  complex, 
refined,  trifling  activity  of  the  mind,  which  conceals  the 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION?  105 

evil  of  this  life,  to  such  a  degree  of  useless  complication 
and  intricacy  that  the  majority  of  men  have  entirely  lost 
the  ability  to  see  the  ditterence  between  good  and  evil, 
between  the  lie  and  the  truth. 

For  the  men  of  our  world  there  is  not  one  question 
which  they  can  approach  directly  and  simply :  all  ques- 
tions, —  economic,  internal  and  external  governmental, 
political,  diplomatic,  scientific,  —  to  say  nothing  of  philo- 
sophic and  religious  questions,  are  with  such  artfulness  put 
so  incorrectly  and  are,  therefore,  swaddled  in  such  a  thick 
cloth  of  complex,  unnecessary  reflections,  refined  distor- 
tions of  ideas  and  words,  sophisms,  and  discussions,  that 
all  reflections  about  such  questions  circle  in  one  place, 
without  catchiug  into  anything,  and,  like  wheels  without 
the  driving-belt  of  transmission,  lead  to  nothing  but  that 
one  purpose  for  which  they  have  arisen,  —  to  concealing 
from  oneself  and  from  men  that  evil  in  which  they  live 
and  which  they  do. 

11 

In  all  the  spheres  of  the  so-called  science  of  our  time 
there  is  the  same  feature,  which  invalidates  all  the  efforts 
of  men's  minds  that  are  directed  upon  the  investigation  of 
various  spheres  of  knowledge.  This  feature  consists  in 
this,  that  all  the  investigations  of  the  science  of  our  time 
avoid  the  essential  question  to  which  an  answer  is  de- 
manded, and  investigate  side  issues,  the  investigations  of 
which  lead  to  nothing  and  become  the  more  entangled, 
the  farther  they  are  carried  on.  Noi  can  it  be  different 
with  a  science  which  chooses  its  subjects  of  investigation 
by  chance,  and  not  according  to  the  demands  of  the  re- 
ligious world-conception,  which  determines  what  is  to  be 
studied  and  when,  what  first  and  what  last.  Thus,  for 
example,  in  the  now  fashionable  subject  of  sociology,  or 
political  economy,  there  would  seem  to  be  but  one  ques- 
tion :  why  do  some  people  do  nothing,  while  others  work 


106  WHAT   IS   RELIGION? 

for  them  ?  (If  there  is  another  question,  which  consists 
in  this,  why  people  work  separatel}^  interfering  with  one 
another,  and  not  in  common  with  all  men,  which  would 
be  more  advantageous,  this  question  is  included  in  the 
first.  If  there  shall  be  no  inequality,  there  will  be  no 
struggle.)  There  would  seem  to  be  but  this  one  question, 
but  science  does  not  even  think  of  putting  and  answering 
it,  but  introduces  far-fetched  considerations,  in  which  it 
deals  in  such  a  way  that  deductions  from  them  can  in  no 
case  either  solve  the  fundamental  question  or  contribute 
to  its  solution.  They  begin  with  considerations  as  to 
what  has  been  and  is,  and  this  past  and  present  are 
viewed  as  something  invariable,  like  the  course  of  the 
celestial  luminaries,  and  they  invent  abstract  ideas  of 
values,  capital,  profit,  percentage,  and  there  appears  a 
complex  play  of  the  minds  of  men  quarrelling  among 
themselves,  which  has  been  lasting  for  a  hundred  vears. 
In  reahty  the  question  can  be  solved  easily  and  simply. 

Its  solution  consists  in  this,  that,  since  all  men  are 
l)rothers  and  equal  among  themselves,  everybody  must 
act  toward  others  as  he  wishes  that  others  should  act 
toward  him,  and,  therefore,  the  whole  matter  is  in  the 
destruction  of  the  false  rehgious  law  and  the  establish- 
ment of  the  new  law.  But  the  advanced  men  of  the 
Christian  world  not  only  do  not  accept  this  solution,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  try  to  conceal  from  men  the  possibility 
of  such  a  solution  and  for  this  purpose  abandon  them- 
selves to  that  empty  sophistry  which  they  call  science. 

The  same  thing  takes  place  in  the  juridical  sphere.  It 
would  seem  that  the  only  essential  question  consists  in 
this,  why  there  are  men  who  allow  themselves  to  offer 
violence  to  other  people,  to  rob,  imprison,  and  execute 
them,  to  send  them  to  war,  and  many  more  things.  The 
solution  of  the  question  is  very  simple,  if  we  consider  it 
from  the  one  relevant  point  of  view,  —  the  religious. 
From  the  religious  point  of  view  a  man  cannot  and  must 


WHAT   IS    RELIGION  ?  107 

not  commit  any  acts  of  violence  against  his  neighbour, 
and  so,  to  solve  the  question,  only  one  thing  is  needed,  — 
to  destroy  all  superstitious  and  sophisms  which  permit 
violence,  and  clearly  to  impress  upon  people  the  religious 
principles  which  exclude  the  possibility  of  violence. 

The  advanced  people,  however,  not  only  fail  to  do  so, 
but  also  use  all  the  cunning  of  their  miad  for  the  purpose 
of  concealing  from  men  the  possibihty  and  the  urgency  of 
this  solution.  They  write  mountains  of  books  about  all 
kinds  of  laws,  —  civil,  criminal,  police,  ecclesiastic,  finan- 
cial, and  other  laws,  —  and  expound  and  discuss  these 
themes,  fully  convinced  that  they  are  doing  not  only  a 
useful,  but  also  a  very  important  v/ork.  But  they  do  not 
even  answer  the  question  as  to  why  men,  being  essen- 
tially equal,  can  some  of  them  judge,  coerce,  rob,  execute 
others,  and  do  not  even  recognize  its  existence.  According 
to  their  teaching  it  turns  out  that  this  violence  is  not 
exerted  by  men,  but  by  something  abstract  called  the 
state. 

In  a  similar  way  the  learned  men  of  our  time  avoid 
and  pass  over  in  silence  the  essential  questions  and  con- 
ceal the  inner  contradictions  in  all  the  spheres  of  knowl- 
edge. In  the  historical  sciences  there  is  one  essential 
question  :  how  have  the  working  classes,  that  is,  999  thou- 
sandths of  all  humanity,  lived  ?  To  this  question  there  is 
not  even  a  semblance  of  an  answer ;  the  question  does  not 
even  exist,  and  mountains  of  books  are  written  by  the 
historians  of  one  school  as  to  how  Louis  XL  had  a  belly- 
ache, what  abominations  were  committed  by  Elizabeth  of 
England  and  by  John  IV.,  who  were  the  ministers,  and 
what  kind  of  verses  and  comedies  were  written  by  the 
literary  men  for  the  amusement  of  these  kings  and  their 
paramours  and  ministers.  But  the  historians  of  another 
school  describe  the  locality  in  which  the  people  lived, 
what  they  ate,  what  they  traded  in,  what  garments  they 
wore,  in  general,  what  could  not  have  had  any  influence 


108  WHAT    IS    RELIGION? 

xipon  the  life  of  the  people,  but  was  the  cousequence  of 
their  religion,  which  by  the  historians  of  this  category 
is  recognized  as  the  result  of  the  food  and  the  apparel 
used  by  the  people. 

However,  the  answer  to  the  question  as  to  how  the 
working  people  used  to  live  can  be  given  only  by  recog- 
nizing religion  as  a  necessary  condition  of  the  people's 
life,  and  so  the  answer  is  to  be  found  in  the  study  of 
those  religions  which  were  professed  by  the  people,  and 
which  placed  the  people  in  the  condition  in  which  they 
were. 

In  the  natural  history  sciences,  it  would  seem,  there 
was  no  particular  necessity  for  dimming  men's  sound 
reason ;  but  even  here,  thanks  to  the  mental  process 
applied  by  the  science  of  our  time,  they  lose  themselves, 
instead  of  giving  the  most  natural  answers  to  the  ques- 
tion as  to  what  the  world  of  living  beings,  plants,  and 
animals  is,  and  how  it  is  subdivided,  in  an  empty,  obscure 
and  absolutely  useless  prattle,  which  is  chiefly  directed 
against  the  Biblical  history  of  the  creation  of  the  world, 
about  how  the  organisms  originated,  which  nobody  needs 
to  know  and  which  nobody  can  know,  because  this  origin, 
no  matter  how  we  may  explain  it,  will  always  be  lost  for 
us  in  infinite  time  and  space.  And  on  these  themes  they 
have  invented  theories  and  retorts,  and  additions  to  theo- 
ries, which  form  millions  of  books,  and  the  unexpected 
deduction  from  which  is  this  one,  that  the  law  of  life  to 
which  man  must  submit  is  the  struggle  for  existence. 

The  applied  sciences,  moreover,  such  as  the  technical 
sciences  and  medicine,  on  account  of  the  absence  of  a 
guiding  religious  principle,  involuntarily  depart  from  their 
rational  purpose,  and  receive  false  directions.  Thus  the 
whole  of  the  technical  sciences  are  not  directed  upon 
the  alleviation  of  the  people's  labour,  but  upon  improve- 
ments needed  only  by  the  wealthy  classes,  which  still 
more  separate  the  rich  from  the  poor,  the  masters  from 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION  ?  109 

the  slaves.  If  some  advantages  from  these  inventions  and 
improvements,  tiny  bits  of  them,  tiud  their  way  among  the 
popular  masses,  this  is  not  so  because  they  are  intended 
for  the  masses,  but  only  because  by  their  property  they 
cannot  be  withheld  from  the  people. 

The  same  is  true  of  medical  science,  w^hich  in  its  false 
direction  has  reached  a  poiut  where  it  is  accessible  only 
to  the  wealthy  classes  ;  but  the  masses,  from  their  manner 
of  life  and  poverty  and  neglect  of  the  chief  questions  of 
the  improvement  of  their  hfe  of  wretchedness,  can  make 
use  of  it  to  such  an  extent  and  under  such  conditions  ihat 
this  aid  only  shows  more  clearly  the  deviation  of  medical 
science  from  its  purpose. 

Most  striking,  however,  is  this  deviation  from  the  fun- 
damental questions  and  their  distortion  in  what  in  our 
time  is  called  philosophy.  It  would  seem  that  there  is 
one  question  which  is  subject  to  the  solution  of  philoso- 
phy, and  that  is:  What  must  I  do  ?  To  this  question 
there  have  been  some  kinds  of  answers  in  the  philosophy 
of  the  Christian  nations,  though  these  were  connected 
with  the  greatest  unnecessary  confusion  of  ideas:  such 
answers  were  those  by  Spinoza,  by  Kant  in  his  Critique 
of  Pure  Reason,  by  Schopenhauer,  and  especially  by  Eous- 
seau.  But  of  late,  since  the  time  of  Hegel,  who  recog- 
nized everything  in  existence  as  sensible,  the  question  as 
to  what  we  shall  do  has  been  put  in  the  background,  and 
philosophy  directs  all  its  attention  to  the  investigation  of 
what  is,  and  to  the  subordination  of  this  to  a  previously 
stated  theory.  This  is  the  first  step  down.  The  second 
step  that  brings  human  thought  even  lower  is  the  recog- 
nition of  the  struggle  for  existence  as  a  fundamental  law, 
only  because  this  struggle  may  be  observed  in  the  case  of 
animals  and  plants.  According  to  this  theory  it  is  as- 
sumed that  the  destruction  of  the  weaker  is  a  law  that 
should  not  be  interfered  with.  Finally,  we  come  to  the 
third  step,  where  the  sophomoric  attitudinizing  of  the  half- 


110  WHAT    IS    RELIGION? 

witted  Nietzsche,  which  does  not  even  represent  anything 
whole  or  coherent,  —  mere  sketches  of  immoral,  unfounded 
ideas,  —  is  regarded  by  advanced  men  as  the  last  word  of 
philosophic  science.  In  reply  to  the  question  as  to  what 
we  shall  do,  we  are  told  outright :  we  must  live  for  our 
pleasure,  without  paying  any  attention  to  the  lives  of 
other  men. 

If  any  one  should  doubt  the  terrible  intoxication  and 
bestialization  which  has  been  reached  by  Christian  human- 
ity in  our  day,  the  unusual  success  of  Nietzsche's  writings, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  late  Boer  and  China  crimes,  which 
have  been  defended  by  the  clergy  and  have  been  recog- 
nized as  heroic  exploits  by  the  mighty  of  the  world,  may 
serve  as  an  incontrovertible  proof  of  it.  We  have  before 
us  the  incoherent,  most  rankly  sensational  writings  of  a 
witty,  but  narrow-minded  and  abnormal  German,  who  is 
obsessed  by  the  mania  of  greatness.  These  writings, 
neither  by  talent  nor  by  their  thoroughness,  can  lay  any 
claim  to  the  public's  attention.  Such  writings  would  not 
only  not  have  attracted  any  attention  in  the  days  of 
Kant,  Leibniz,  or  Hume,  or  even  fifty  years  ago,  but 
could  not  even  have  made  their  appearance  then.  In 
our  time,  however,  all  the  so-called  cultured  humanity 
goes  into  ecstasies  over  Mr.  Nietzsche's  delirium,  and 
discusses  and  elucidates  it,  and  his  works  are  printed  in 
all  languages  and  in  an  endless  number  of  copies. 

Turg<^nev  said  wittily  that  there  are  reverse  common- 
places which  are  frequently  used  by  untalented  men  who 
wish  to  attract  attention.  Everybody  knows,  for  example, 
that  water  is  wet,  and  suddenly  a  man  says  with  a 
serious  countenance  that  water  is  dry,  —  not  ice,  —  but 
dry  water,  and  such  a  seriously  expressed  assertion  attracts 
attention. 

Similarly  the  whole  world  knows  that  virtue  consists 
in  the  suppression  of  the  passions,  in  self-renunciation. 
This  is  not  only  known  to  Christianity,  against  which 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION?  Ill 

"N"ietzsche  pretends  to  fight,  but  is  also  an  eternal  supreme 
law  arrived  at  by  all  humanity,  in  Brahmanism,  in  Bud- 
dhism, in  Confucianism,  in  the  ancient  Persian  religion. 
Suddenly  there  appears  a  man  who  announces  that  he 
has  become  convinced  that  self-renunciation,  humility, 
meekness,  love,  —  all  these  are  vices  that  ruin  humanity 
(he  has  in  mind  Christianity,  forgetting  all  the  other  relig- 
ions). Naturally  such  an  assertion  at  first  puzzles  one. 
But  after  a  httle  thought  and  after  finding  in  the  work 
no  proofs  of  this  strange  proposition,  every  sensible  man 
must  reject  such  a  book  and  marvel,  seeing  that  there  is 
nothing  so  foolish  that  in  our  time  it  cannot  find  a  pub- 
lisher. But  with  Nietzsche's  books  it  is  not  so.  The 
majority  of  so-called  enlightened  men  seriously  analyze 
the  theory  of  the  overhumanity,  recognizing  its  author 
as  a  great  philosopher,  an  heir  of  Descartes,  Leibniz,  and 
Kant. 

This  is  all  due  to  the  fact  that  the  majority  of  so- 
called  enlightened  men  of  our  time  hate  the  mention  of 
virtue,  of  its  chief  foundation,  —  self-renunciation,  love,  — 
which  embarrass  and  condemn  their  animal  life,  and  re- 
joice when  they  meet  with  some  even  poorly,  senselessly, 
incoherently  expressed  teaching  of  egoism,  cruelty,  and 
the  assertion  of  their  own  happiness  and  greatness  at  the 
expense  of  other  people's  lives,  a  teaching  which  they 
live  by. 

12 

Christ  reproached  the  Pharisees  and  scribes  for  having 
taken  the  keys  of  the  kingdom  of  God  and  for  not  entering 
themselves  and  not  letting  anybody  else  enter. 

The  same  thing  is  being  done  nowadays  by  the  learned 
scribes  of  our  time :  these  men  have  seized  the  keys,  not 
of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  but  of  enlightenment,  and  they 
do  not  enter  themselves,  and  do  not  let  others  in.  The 
priests,  the  clergy,  have  by  means  of  all  kinds  of  decep- 


112  WHAT   IS   KELIGION? 

tions  and  hypnosis  impressed  upon  people  that  Christianity 
is  not  a  teaching  which  preaches  the  eqiiahty  of  all  men 
and  so  destroys  the  whole  present  pagan  structure  of  life, 
but  that,  on  the  contrary,  it  maintains  this  structure ; 
prescribes  that  people  be  distinguished  from  one  another 
like  the  stars ;  prescribes  that  it  be  accepted  that  every 
power  is  from  God  and  must  be  obeyed  without  any 
discussion ;  and  in  general  inculcates  upon  the  oppressed 
the  idea  that  their  condition  is  from  God  and  that  they 
must  bear  it  in  humility  and  meekness,  and  must  submit 
to  those  oppressors  who  not  only  may  fail  to  be  meek  and 
humble,  but  must,  correcting  others,  teach,  punish,  —  as 
emperors,  kings,  popes,  bishops,  and  all  kinds  of  lay  and 
spiritual  powers,  —  and  live  in  splendour  and  luxury, 
which  their  subjects  are  obliged  to  supply  to  them.  But 
the  ruling  classes,  thanks  to  this  false  teaching  which 
they  maintain  by  force,  dominate  the  masses,  whom  they 
compel  to  serve  their  idleness,  luxury,  and  vices.  Mean- 
while, the  only  men,  the  learned,  who  have  freed  themselves 
from  the  hypnosis,  the  men  who  alone  could  free  the 
masses  from  oppression,  and  who  say  that  they  wish  this, 
instead  of  doing  what  might  attain  this  end,  do  the  very 
opposite,  imagining  that  they  are  thus  serving  the  masses. 

It  would  seem  that  from  a  mere  superficial  observation 
of  what  the  men  who  keep  the  masses  in  subjection  are 
interested  in,  these  people  might  understand  what  the 
nations  are  moved  by  and  what  keeps  them  in  a  certain 
state,  and  should  direct  all  their  forces  to  this  power ;  but, 
far  from  doing  so,  they  consider  this  to  be  quite  useless. 

It  is  as  though  these  men  did  not  wish  to  see  the  truth 
and  as  though,  in  spite  of  their  carefully,  often  even 
sincerely,  doing  for  the  masses  the  most  varied  things, 
they  did  not  do  the  one  thing  necessary  for  them,  so  that 
their  activity  resembles  the  activity  of  a  man  who  should 
try  with  the  effort  of  his  muscles  to  shift  a  train,  whereas 
he  needs  but  get  on  the  tender  and  do  what  he  constantly 


WHAT   IS   RELIGION?  113 

sees  the  engineer  do,  —  move  tte  lever  which  admits  the 
steam  to  the  cyHnder.  This  steam  is  the  religious  world 
conception  of  men.  They  need  only  see  with  what  zeal 
all  the  rulers  defend  this  power,  by  means  of  which  they 
rule  over  the  nations,  to  understand  to  what  they  must 
direct  thek  efforts,  in  order  to  free  the  masses  from  their 
enslavement. 

What  does  the  Turkish  Sultan  defend,  and  what  does 
he  cling  to  most  ?  And  why  does  the  Russian  Emperor, 
upon  arriving  in  a  city,  make  it  his  first  business  to  visit 
the  relics  and  images?  And  why,  in  spite  of  all  his 
varnish  of  culture,  does  the  German  Emperor  in  all  his 
speeches,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  speak  of  God,  of 
Christ,  of  the  holiness  of  rehgion,  of  the  oath,  and  so 
forth  ?  Because  they  all  know  that  their  power  is  based 
on  the  army,  and  the  army,  the  possibility  of  the  exist- 
ence of  the  army,  only  upon  rehgion.  And  if  rich  people 
are  particularly  pious  and  pretend  to  be  behevers,  attend 
church,  and  observe  the  Sabbath,  they  do  so  chiefly  because 
their  instinct  of  self-preservation  tells  them  that  with 
the  religion  which  they  profess  is  connected  their  exclusive 
advantageous  position  in  society. 

Frequently  all  these  men  do  not  know  in  what  way 
their  power  is  maintained  by  the  religious  deception,  but 
they  know  from  a  feeling  of  self-preservation  what  the 
weak  spot  of  their  position  is,  and  they  first  of  all  defend 
this  spot.  These  men  have  always  admitted  and  always 
will  admit  a  socialistic,  even  a  revolutionary  propaganda, 
within  certain  hmits ;  but  they  will  never  allow  the 
religious  foundations  to  be  touched. 

And  so,  if  the  advanced  men  of  our  time  —  the  scholars, 
liberals,  sociahsts,  revolutionists,  anarchists  —  cannot  from 
history  and  fvQj)  psychology  understand  what  it  is  the 
nations  are  moved  by,  they  could  comdnce  themselves  by 
this  objective  experience  that  what  moves  them  is  not 
to  be  found  in  material  conditions,  but  only  in  religion. 


114  WHAT    IS    RELIGION  ? 

But,  strange  to  say,  the  learned,  the  advanced  men  of 
our  time,  who  very  sensitively  analyze  and  understand 
the  conditions  of  the  lives  of  the  nations,  do  not  see  what 
blinds  one  by  its  very  obviousness.  If  the  men  who  do 
so  leave  the  masses  in  their  religious  ignorance  purposely, 
in  order  to  maintain  their  advantageous  position  amidst 
a  minority,  this  is  a  terrible,  disgusting  deception.  Those 
who  act  like  that  are  the  very  hypocrites  whom  more 
than  any  other,  or  even  alone,  Christ  condemned,  because 
no  inhuman  beings  and  scoundrels  have  introduced  so 
much  evil  into  the  life  of  humanity  as  these  men. 

But  if  these  men  are  sincere,  the  only  explanation  of 
this  strange  obfuscation  is  this,  that,  as  the  masses  are 
under  the  influence  of  the  false  religion,  so  also  the  so- 
called  enlightened  men  of  our  time  are  under  the  influence 
of  the  false  science,  which  has  decided  that  the  chief 
nerve  by  which  humanity  has  always  lived  is  no  longer 
of  any  use  to  it  and  may  be  supplanted  by  something 
else. 

13 

In  this  error  or  cunning  of  the  scribes  —  the  educated 
men  of  our  v/orld  —  does  the  peculiarity  of  our  time  con- 
sist, and  in  this  is  to  be  found  the  cause  of  that  wretched 
condition  in  which  Christian  humanity  lives,  and  of  that 
bestialization  in  which  it  sinks  more  and  more. 

As  a  rule,  the  advanced,  cultured  men  of  our  world 
assert  that  the  false  religious  beliefs  professed  by  the 
masses  are  not  of  any  particular  importance,  and  that  it  is 
not  worth  our  while,  nor  even  necessary,  directly  to 
struggle  against  them,  as  formerly  did  Hume,  Voltaire, 
Eousseau,  and  others.  Science,  that  is,  all  that  scattered, 
incidental  information  which  they  dissenrVate  among  the 
masses,  will,  in  their  opinion,  naturally  attain  this  end, 
that  is,  a  man,  having  learned  how  many  millions  of  miles 
the  earth  is  removed  from  the  sun  and  what  metals  are 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION?  115 

to  be  found  in  the  stars  and  the  sun,  will  stop  believing 
in  the  propositions  of  the  church. 

In  this  sincere  or  insincere  assertion  or  assumption  there 
is  a  great  delusion  or  terrible  cunning.  From  his  earliest 
years,  —  an  age  most  susceptible  to  suggestion,  —  when  an 
educator  cannot  be  careful  enough  about  what  is  trans- 
mitted to  the  child,  they  inculcate  upon  him  the  stupid  and 
immoral  dogmas  of  the  so-called  Christian  religion,  which 
are  not  compatible  with  reason  or  with  science.  They 
teach  the  child  the  dogma  of  the  Trinity,  which  is  incom- 
prehensible to  a  normal  brain,  the  descent  of  one  of  these 
gods  upon  earth  for  the  redemption  of  the  human  race.  His 
resurrection  and  ascension  to  heaven ;  he  is  taught  to 
expect  the  second  coming  and  punishment  with  eternal 
torments  for  not  believing  in  these  dogmas ;  he  is  taught 
to  pray  concerning  his  needs,  and  many  more  things. 
And  when  these  propositions,  which  are  not  in  harmony 
with  reason,  nor  with  contemporary  knowledge,  nor  with 
the  human  consciousness,  are  indelibly  impressed  upon 
the  child's  susceptible  mind,  he  is  left  alone,  to  iind  his 
way  as  well  as  he  can  amidst  the  contradictions  which 
result  from  the  dogmas  accepted  by  him  and  made  his 
own  as  the  undoubted  truth.  No  one  tells  him  how  he 
could  and  should  harmonize  these  contradictions.  If  the 
theologians  attempt  to  harmonize  these  contradictions, 
these  attempts  only  confuse  the  matter  more  than  ever. 
By  degrees  a  man  gets  used  to  the  idea  (and  in  this  he  is 
strongly  supported  by  the  theologians)  that  reason  cannot 
be  relied  upon,  and  that,  therefore,  everything  is  possible 
in  the  world,  and  that  in  man  there  is  nothing  by  means 
of  which  he  can  distinguish  good  from  evil  and  the  lie  from 
the  truth,  and  that  in  what  is  most  important  to  him,  — 
in  his  acts,  —  he  must  not  be  guided  by  his  reason,  but 
by  what  others  tell  him.  Naturally  a  terrible  distortion 
in  a  man's  spiritual  world  must  be  produced  by  such  an 
education,  and  this  distortion  is  in  maturer  years  main- 


116  WHAT    IS    RELIGION? 

tained  with  all  the  means  of  suggestion,  which  is  exercised 
all  the  time  against  the  masses  with  the  aid  of  the 
clergy. 

But  if  a  spiritually  strong  man  with  great  labour  and 
effort  succeeds  in  freeing  himself  from  the  hypnosis  in 
which  he  has  been  educated  since  his  childhood  and 
maintained  in  his  maturer  years,  that  distortion  of  his 
soul,  through  which  he  has  been  impressed  with  unbelief 
in  his  own  reason,  cannot  pass  unnoticed,  just  as  in  the 
physical  world  the  poisoning  of  the  organism  with  some 
powerful  venom  cannot  pass  without  leaving  any  trace. 
Having  freed  himself  from  the  hypnosis  of  the  deception, 
such  a  man,  hating  the  lie  from  which  he  has  just  freed 
himself,  will  naturally  acquire  that  teaching  of  the  ad- 
vanced men  according  to  which  every  religion  is  regarded 
as  one  of  the  chief  impediments  in  humanity's  forward 
movement  on  the  path  of  progress.  Having  acquired 
this  teaching,  such  a  man  will  become  just  as  unprin- 
cipled a  man  as  his  teacher,  a  man  who  is  guided  in  life 
by  nothing  but  his  desires,  and  who,  far  from  condemning 
himself  for  this,  considers  himself  for  this  very  reason  to 
be  on  the  highest  accessible  point  of  spiritual  develop- 
ment. 

Thus  it  will  be  with  the  men  who  are  spiritually 
strongest.  Those  who  are  less  strong,  though  they  may 
awaken  to  doubt,  will  never  fully  free  themselves  from  the 
deception  in  %vhich  they  are  brought  up,  and,  allying  them- 
selves with  all  existing  kinds  of  finely  spun,  misty  theories, 
which  are  to  justify  the  stupidity  of  the  dogmas  accepted 
by  them,  and  inventing  others,  will  live  in  the  sphere  of 
doubts,  haziness,  sophisms,  and  self-deception,  and  will 
only  contribute  to  the  obfuscation  of  the  masses  and 
will  counteract  their  awakening. 

But  the  majority  of  men,  having  no  strength  and  no 
chance  to  struggle  against  the  suggestion  exercised  against 
them,  will  live  and  die  for  generations,  as  they  now  live, 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION?  117 

deprived  of  man's  highest  good,  —  the  true  religious  con- 
cept of  hfe,  —  and  will  always  form  nothing  but  a  sub- 
missive tool  for  the  classes  that  rule  over  them  and 
deceive  them. 

It  is  this  terrible  deception  that  the  advanced  men 
say  is  not  important  and  is  not  worth  struggling  against. 
The. only  explanation  of  such  an  assertion,  if  these  who 
make  it  are  sincere,  is  this,  that  they  themselves  are  under 
the  hypnosis  of  the  false  science ;  but  if  they  are  not 
sincere,  the  attack  of  the  established  beliefs  is  not  advan- 
tageous and  frequently  is  dangerous.  In  any  case,  in  one 
way  or  another,  the  assertion  that  the  profession  of  a 
false  religion  is  harmless  or  at  least  not  important,  and 
that,  therefore,  it  is  possible  to  disseminate  enlightenment 
without  destroying  the  religious  deception,  is  absolutely 
untrue. 

The  salvation  of  humanity  from  its  calamities  is  only 
in  its  hberatioD  from  the  hypnosis  in  which  it  is  held  by 
its  priests  as  also  from  the  one  into  which  it  is  led  by  the 
learned.  In  order  to  pour  something  into  a  vessel  it  is 
necessary  first  to  free  it  from  what  it  contains.  Just  so 
it  is  necessary  to  free  men  from  the  deception  in  which 
they  are  held,  in  order  thac  they  may  be  able  to  accept 
the  true  religion,  that  is,  a  regular  relation  to  the  begin- 
ning of  everything,  to  God,  which  would  correspond  to 
the  development  of  humanity,  and  a  guidance  for  their 
activity,  as  deduced  from  this  relation. 

14 

"  But  is  there  a  true  religion  ?  All  the  religions  are 
infinitely  varied,  and  we  have  no  right  to  call  any  one  of 
them  true,  simply  because  it  more  nearly  fits  in  with  our 
tastes,"  will  say  the  men  who  consider  the  religions  from 
their  external  forms  as  a  certain  kind  of  a  disease, 
from  which  they  feel  themselves  free,  but  from  which  the 


118  WHAT   IS   RELIGION? 

rest  of  the  people  are  still  suffering.  But  that  is  not 
true :  the  religions  differ  in  their  external  forms,  but  they 
are  all  alike  in  their  fundamental  principles.  It  is  these 
fundamental  principles  of  all  religious  that  form  the  true 
religion  which  alone  in  our  time  is  proper  for  all  men,  and 
the  adoption  of  which  can  alone  save  humanity  from  all 
its  calamities. 

Humanity  has  been  living  for  a  long  time,  and  as  it 
has  traditionally  worked  out  its  practical  acquisitions,  so 
it  could  not  help  but  work  out  those  spiritual  principles 
which  form  the  foundations  of  its  life,  and  the  rules  of 
conduct  which  result  from  them.  The  fact  that  the 
blinded  men  do  not  see  them  does  not  prove  their  non- 
existence. Such  a  religion  of  our  time,  common  to  all 
men,  —  not  some  one  religion  with  all  its  peculiarities 
and  distortions,  but  a  religion  which  consists  in  those 
religious  propositions  which  are  identical  in  all  the  widely 
disseminated  and  well-known  rehgions,  as  professed  by 
more  than  nine-tenths  of  the  human  race,  —  does  exist,  and 
men  have  not  yet  become  completely  brutalized  because 
the  best  men  of  all  the  nations,  even  though  it  be  uncon- 
sciously, hold  to  this  religion  and  profess  it,  and  it  is  only 
the  suggestion  of  the  deception  which  with  the  aid  of  the 
priests  and  the  learned  is  exercised  against  people  that 
keeps  them  from  accepting  it  consciously. 

The  tenets  of  this  true  religion  are  to  such  an  extent 
proper  to  men  that,  as  soon  as  they  are  communicated 
to  men,  they  are  accepted  as  "something  well  known  and 
natural.  For  us  this  true  religion  is  Christianity,  in  those 
of  its  tenets  in  which  it  coincides,  not  with  the  external 
forms,  but  with  the  fundamental  'propositions  of  Brah- 
manisra,  Confucianism,  Taoism,  Judaism,  Buddhism,  and 
even  Mohammedanism.  Even  so  for  those  who  profess 
Brahmanism,  Confucianism,  and  so  forth,  the  true  religion 
will  be  the  one  whose  fundamental  propositions  coincide 
with  the  fundamental  propositions  of  all  the  other  great 


WHAT   IS    RELIGION?  119 

religions.     These  propositions  are    very  simple,  compre- 
hensible, and  incomplex. 

These  propositions  are  that  there  is  a  God,  the  begin- 
ning of  everything ;  that  in  man  there  is  a  particle  of  this 
divine  principle,  which  he  is  able  by  his  life  to  increase 
or  diminish  in  himself ;  that  for  the  increase  of  this  prin- 
ciple a  man  must  suppress  his  passions  and  increase  his 
love  in  himself ;  and  that  the  practical  means  for  doing 
this  consists  in  acting  toward  others  as  we  would  that 
others  should  act  toward  us.  All  these  propositions  are 
common  to  Brahmanism,  to  Judaism,  to  Confucianism, 
to  Taoism,  to  Buddhism,  to  Christianity,  to  Mohammedan- 
ism. (Though  Buddhism  does  not  give  a  definition  of 
God,  it  none  the  less  recognizes  that  with  which  man 
blends  and  into  which  he  sinks,  when  he  reaches  Kirvana. 
Thus  that  with  which  man  unites  as  he  sinks  into  Nir- 
vana is  that  principle  which  is  recognized  as  God  by 
Judaism,  Christianity,  and  Mohammedanism.) 

"  But  this  is  not  religion,"  will  be  said  by  the  men  of 
our  time,  who  are  accustomed  to  accept  what  is  super- 
natural, that  is,  senseless,  as  the  chief  symptom  of  relig- 
ion. "  This  is  anything  you  please,  philosophy,  ethics,  and 
reflections,  but  not  religion."  Eeligion,  according  to  their 
conception,  must  be  absurd  and  incomprehensible  (credo 
quia  absurduvi).  And  yet  it  is  only  out  of  these  propo- 
sitions or,  rather,  in  consequence  of  their  being  preached 
as  a  religious  teaching  that  by  a  long  process  of  distortion 
have  been  worked  out  all  those  absurdities  of  miracles 
and  supernatural  events  which  are  regarded  as  the  fun- 
damental symptoms  of  every  religion.  To  assert  that 
supernaturalness  and  absurdity  form  the  fundamental 
properties  of  religion  is  the  same  as  to  assert,  when  one 
observes  nothing  but  rotten  apples,  that  the  bitterness  of 
decay  and  an  injurious  effect  upon  the  stomach  are  the 
fundamental  property  of  the  apple. 

Eeligion  is  the  determination  of  man's  relation  to  the 


120  WHAT    IS    RELIGION? 

beginning  of  everything,  and  of  man's  destination,  which 
follows  from  this  proposition,  and,  following  from  this 
destination,  of  rules  for  his  conduct.  And  the  universal 
religion,  the  fundamental  propositions  of  which  are  iden- 
tical in  all  professions,  fully  satisfies  these  demands.  It 
determines  man's  relation  to  God,  as  of  the  part  to  the 
whole,  and  from  this  relation  deduces  man's  destination, 
which  consists  in  the  increase  of  the  divine  property  in 
himself ;  now  it  is  man's  destination  to  deduce  practical 
demands  from  the  rule  of  doing  unto  others  as  we  would 
that  others  would  do  unto  us. 

People  frequently  doubt,  and  at  one  time  I  myself 
doubted,  whether  such  an  abstract  rule  as  this,  that  we 
should  do  unto  others  as  we  would  that  others  should  do 
unto  us,  could  be  as  obligatory  a  rule  and  guide  of  acts 
as  the  simpler  rules,  —  of  fasting,  prayer,  communion,  and 
so  forth.  But  to  this  doubt  an  incontrovertible  answer 
is  given  by  the  spiritual  condition  of,  say,  a  Kussian  peas- 
ant, who  would  rather  die  than  spit  the  Eucharist  out  on 
the  manure  pile,  and  yet  is  ready  at  the  command  of  men 
to  kill  his  brothers. 

Why  could  not  the  demands  which  are  deduced  from 
the  rule  of  not  doing  ui5to  another  what  we  should  not 
wish  another  to  do  unto  us  —  such  as  that  we  should  not 
kill  our  brothers,  should  not  curse,  commit  adultery,  take 
vengeance,  make  use  of  our  brother's  want  for  the  gratifi- 
cation of  our  lusts,  and  many  others  —  be  inculcated  with 
the  same  force  and  become  as  obligatory  and  inviolable  as 
is  the  belief  in  the  sacredness  of  the  Eucharist,  tlie  images, 
and  so  forth,  to  people  whose  faith  is  based  more  on  trust 
than  on  any  clear  internal  consciousness  ? 

15 

The  truths  of  the  religion  of  our  time  common  to  all 
men  are  so  simple,  so  comprehensible,  and  so  near  to  the 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION?  121 

heart  of  every  man,  that,  it  would  seem,  it  would  suffice 
for  the  parents,  rulers,  and  instructors,  in  place  of  tlie 
obsolete  and  absurd  doctrines  about  the  Trinities,  mothers 
of  God,  redemptions,  Indras,  Trimurtis,  heaven-ascending 
Buddhas  and  Mohammeds,  in  which  they  frequently  do 
not  believe  themselves,  to  inculcate  upon  the  children  and 
the  adults  the  simple,  clear  truths  of  the  religion  which  is 
common  to  all  men,  —  the  metaphysical  essence  of  which 
consists  in  this,  that  in  man  there  dwells  the  divine 
spirit,  and  the  practical  rule  of  which  is  this,  that  a  man 
should  act  toward  others  as  he  wishes  that  others  should 
act  toward  him,  and  the  whole  human  life  would  change 
of  its  own  accord.  If  only,  as  now  children  and  adults 
are  impressed  with  the  faith  that  God  sent  His  Son  in 
order  to  redeem  Adam's  sins,  and  estabhshed  His  church, 
which  must  be  obeyed,  and  the  rules  resulting  from  this, 
which  are  to  pray  at  such  a  time  and  place,  and  to  offer 
sacrifices,  and  at  such  a  time  to  abstain  from  a  certain 
kind  of  food  and  on  certain  days  from  work,  it  were  in- 
culcated upon  men  and  asserted  that  God  is  spirit,  whose 
manifestation  lives  in  us  and  whose  power  v/e  can  increase 
by  means  of  our  lives !  If  this  and  everything  which 
naturally  results  from  these  foundations  were  inculcated 
upon  men,  just  as  now  they  are  impressed  with  useless 
stories  about  impossible  events  and  with  rules  about 
meaningless  rites  resulting  from  these  stories,  there  would, 
in  place  of  a  senseless  war  and  disunion,  and  without  the 
aid  of  diplomas,  international  laws,  congresses  of  peace, 
political  economists,  and  socialists  of  every  description, 
very  soon  result  a  peaceful,  concordant,  happy  life  of 
humanity,  guided  by  the  one  religion. 

But  nothing  of  the  kind  is  taking  place ;  not  only  is 
the  deception  of  the  false  religion  not  destroyed  and  the 
true  religion  not  preached,  but  men,  on  the  contrary,  more 
and  more  depart  from  the  possibility  of  accepting  the 
truth. 


122  WHAT    IS    RELIGION? 

The  chief  reason  why  men  do  not  do  what  is  natural, 
necessary,  and  possible,  consists  in  this,  that  the  men  of 
our  time  have  become  so  accustomed,  in  consequence  of  a 
long  irreligious  life,  to  arranging  and  strengthening  their 
existence  by  means  of  violence,  bayonets,  bullets,  prisons, 
gibbets,  that  it  seems  to  them  that  such  a  structure  of 
life  is  normal,  and  even  that  there  can  be  no  other.  Not 
only  is  this  the  belief  of  those  to  whom  the  present  order 
is  advantageous,  but  also  those  who  suffer  from  it  are 
so  stupefied  by  the  suggestion  exerted  against  them  that 
they  consider  violence  the  only  means  of  order  in  human 
society.  And  yet  it  is  this  very  arrangement  and  strength- 
ening of  human  life  by  means  of  violence  that  more  than 
anything  else  removes  men  from  the  comprehension  of 
the  causes  of  their  suffering  and  so  from  the  possibihty 
of  a  true  order. 

What  is  taking  place  is  very  much  what  a  bad  and  ill- 
intentioned  physician  does  when  he  drives  in  a  vicious 
eruption,  not  only  deceiving  the  patient  by  this,  but 
even  aggravating  the  disease  itself  and  making  its  cure 
impossible. 

To  the  ruling  men,  who  have  enslaved  the  masses  and 
who  think  and  say,  "  Apres  nous  le  deluge,"  it  seems  very 
convenient  by  means  of  the  army,  the  clergy,  the  soldiers, 
and  the  police,  and  by  means  of  threatening  bayonets, 
bullets,  prisons,  workhouses,  gibbets,  to  compel  the  en- 
slaved men  to  continue  to  live  in  their  stultification  and 
enslavement,  and  not  to  interfere  with  the  rulers  in  their 
enjoyment  of  their  position.  And  this  the  ruling  people 
do,  calling  such  an  order  of  things  good,  though  nothing 
so  much  interferes  with  the  true  social  order  as  this.  In 
reality  such  an  order  is  not  only  not  good,  but  is  even  an 
establishment  of  evil. 

If  the  men  of  our  societies,  with  the  residue  of  those 
religious  principles  which  none  the  less  live  in  the  masses, 
did  not  constantly  see  crimes  committed  by  those  men 


WHAT   IS   RELIGION?  123 

who  have  taken  it  upon  themselves  to  watch  over  order 
and  morality  ia  the  lives  of  men,  —  wars,  executions,  pris- 
ons, taxes,  the  sale  of  whiskey,  and  of  opium,  —  they 
would  never  think  of  doing  one-hundredth  part  of  those 
evil  deeds  and  deceits,  and  the  violence  and  murder,  which 
they  now  commit  with  the  full  assurance  that  these  deeds 
are  good  and  proper  to  men. 

The  law  of  humau  life  is  such  that  its  improvement, 
both  for  the  individual  and  the  society  of  meu,  is  possible 
only  through  an  internal  moral  perfection.  But  all  the 
attempts  of  men  to  improve  their  lives  by  external  inter- 
actions by  means  of  violence  serve  as  a  most  efficient  ser- 
mon and  example  of  evO,  and  so  not  only  fail  to  improve 
life,  but,  on  the  contrary,  increase  the  evil,  which  grows 
more  and  more,  like  a  snowball,  and  more  and  more 
removes  men  from  the  one  possibihty  of  the  true  im- 
provement of  their  lives. 

In  proportion  as  the  habit  of  violence  and  of  crimes, 
which  under  the  guise  of  law  are  committed  by  the  guar- 
dians of  the  peace  and  of  morality,  becomes  more  and 
more  frequent  and  more  and  more  cruel,  and  is  more 
and  more  justified  by  the  suggestion  of  that  lie  which  is 
given  out  as  religion,  men  become  more  and  more  con- 
firmed in  the  idea  that  the  law  of  their  Ufe  is  not  in  love  and 
in  mutaal  service,  but  in  struggle  and  mutual  devouring. 

And  the  more  they  become  confirmed  in  this  idea 
which  debases  them  to  the  level  of  the  animal,  the  more 
difficult  it  is  for  them  to  awaken  from  that  hypnosis  in 
which  they  are  and  to  accept  as  the  foundation  of  life 
the  true  religion  of  our  time,  which  is  common  to  all 
humanity. 

A  false  circle  is  established :  the  absence  of  religion 
makes  possible  the  animal  life,  which  is  based  on  vio- 
lence ;  the  animal  life,  which  is  based  on  violence,  makes 
the  liberation  from  the  hypnosis  and  the  acceptance  of  the 
true  religion  more  and  more  impossible.     For  this  reason 


124  WHAT    IS    RELIGION? 

men  do  not  do  what  is  natural,  possible,  and  indispen- 
sable in  our  time,  —  they  do  not  destroy  the  deception 
of  the  similitude  of  religion  and  do  not  accept  and  preach 
the  true  rehgion. 

16 

Is  there  a  way  out  from  this  magic  circle,  and  in  what 
does  it  consist  ? 

At  first  it  appears  that  these  men  ought  to  be  brought 
out  of  that  circle  by  the  governments  which  have  taken 
it  upon  themselves  to  guide  the  life  of  the  nations  for 
their  own  good.  Thus  always  thought  the  people  who 
tried  to  substitute  for  the  structure  of  life  which  is  based 
on  violence  another  structure  of  life,  which  is  rational 
and  based  on  mutual  service  and  love.  Thus  also  thought 
the  Christian  reformers,  and  the  founders  of  various  theo- 
ries of  European  communism,  and  the  famous  Chinese 
reformer,  Mi-ti,  who  proposed  to  the  government,  for  the 
good  of  the  nation,  to  teach  the  children  in  the  schools 
non-military  sciences  and  exercises,  and  not  to  give  to 
adults  rewards  for  military  acts,  but  to  teach  children  and 
adults  rules  of  respect  and  love,  and  to  offer  rewards 
and  encouragement  for  acts  of  love.  Thus  also  have 
thought  many  Eussian  religious  reformers  from  among 
the  masses,  many  of  whom  I  have  known,  beginniag  with 
Syutaev  and  ending  with  an  old  man  who  has  five  times 
petitioned  the  Tsar  to  command  the  false  religion  to  be 
abolished  and  true  Christianity  to  be  preached. 

It  naturally  seems  to  people  that  the  governments, 
which  justify  their  existence  by  their  care  for  the  public 
weal,  ought,  for  the  confirmation  of  this  good,  to  wish  to 
use  that  one  means,  which  in  no  case  can  be  injurious 
to  the  masses  and  which  can  be  productive  of  only  the 
most  fruitful  consequences.  But  the  governments  have 
never  and  nowhere  taken  this  obligation  upon  themselves  ; 
they  have,  on  the  contrary,  always  and  everywhere  with 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION?  125 

the  greatest  zeal  defended  the  existing  false,  obsolete 
creed,  and  have  with  all  the  means  at  their  command 
persecuted  those  who  have  tried  to  give  the  masses  the 
foundations  of  the  true  rehgion.  In  reality  it  cannot  he 
otherwise  :  for  the  governments  to  show  up  the  lie  of  the 
existing  religion  and  to  preach  the  true  religion  is  the 
same  as  though  a  man  should  cut  off  the  branch  on  which 
he  is  sitting. 

But  if  the  governments  do  not  do  that,  it  would  seem 
that  it  ought  to  be  done  by  those  learned  men  who,  having 
freed  themselves  from  the  deception  of  the  false  religion, 
wish,  as  they  say,  to  serve  the  masses  which  have  nurtured 
them.  But  these  men,  like  the  governments,  do  not  do 
so,  in  the  first  place,  because  they  consider  it  purposeless 
to  subject  themselves  to  the  unpleasantness  and  dangers 
of  persecutions  from  the  governments  by  revealing  the 
deception  which  is  defended  by  the  government  and 
which,  according  to  their  conviction,  will  destroy  itself ; 
in  the  second  place,  because,  considering  every  religion  an 
outhved  delusion,  they  have  nothing  to  offer  to  the  masses 
in  place  of  the  deception  if  they  should  destroy  it. 

There  are  left  those  great  masses  of  unlearned  men, 
who  are  subject  to  the  hypnosis  of  the  ecclesiastic  and 
governmental  deception,  and  who,  therefore,  think  that 
that  se^iblance  of  religion  which  is  suggested  to  them  is 
the  one  true  religion,  and  that  there  is  and  can  be  no 
other.  These  masses  are  subjected  to  a  constant,  inten- 
sified action  of  hypnosis ;  generation  after  generation  is 
born,  lives,  and  dies  in  that  stupefied  condition  in  which 
it  is  held  by  the  clergy  and  the  government,  and  if  men 
free  themselves  from  it,  they  inevitably  find  their  way 
into  the  school  of  the  learned  who  deny  religion,  and 
their  influence  becomes  as  useless  and  harmful  as  the 
influence  of  their  teachers. 

Thus  this  is  disadvantageous  to  some,  and  impossible 
to  others. 


126  WHAT    IS    RELIGION? 


17 

There  seems  to  be  no  way  out. 

Indeed,  for  irreligious  people  there  is  and  there  can  be 
no  way  out  from  this  condition :  though  the  men  who 
belong  to  the  upper  ruling  classes  may  pretend  to  be 
interested  in  the  weal  of  the  popular  masses,  they  will 
never  seriously  attempt  to  destroy  that  stultification  and 
enslavement  in  which  the  masses  live  and  which  make  it 
possible  for  the  upper  classes  to  rule  them  (nor  can  they 
do  so,  since  they  are  guided  by  worldly  considerations). 
Similarly  the  men  who  belong  to  the  enslaved,  who,  too, 
are  guided  by  worldly  considerations,  cannot  wish  to 
make  their  otherwise  bad  condition  worse  by  a  struggle 
with  the  upper  classes  as  the  result  of  revealiug  the  false 
teaching  and  preaching  the  true.  Neither  of  them  have 
any  reason  for  doing  so  and,  if  they  are  wise  people,  will 
never  try  to  do  so. 

But  it  is  not  so  in  the  case  of  religious  people,  those 
religious  people  who,  no  matter  how  much  society  may 
be  corrupted,  with  their  own  life  preserve  that  holy  fire 
of  religion  without  which  human  life  could  not ,  exist. 
There  are  times  (our  time  is  such)  when  these  men  are 
not  to  be  seen,  when  they,  despised  and  humbled  by  all, 
pass  their  lives  ingloriously,  as  in  our  country,  in  exile, 
in  prisons,  in  disciplinary  battalions ;  but  they  exist  and 
through  them  the  rational  human  life  is  maintained.  It 
is  these  religious  people,  no  matter  how  few  there  are  of 
them,  who  alone  can  and  will  break  that  magic  circle 
in  which  all  men  are  kept  in  fetters.  These  men  can  do 
it,  because  all  the  inconveniences  and  dangers,  which  pre- 
vent a  man  of  the  world  from  going  counter  to  the  exist- 
ing order  of  life,  not  only  do  not  exist  for  a  religious  man, 
but  even  increase  his  zeal  in  his  struggle  with  the  he  and 
in  his  profession  in  words  and  deeds  of  what  he  considers 
to    be    the    divine    truth.     If  he  belongs   to  the  ruling 


WHAT    IS    RELIGION?  127 

classes  he  not  only  will  not  wish  to  conceal  the  truth  for 
the  sake  of  the  advantages  of  his  position,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  despising  these  advantages,  will  use  all  the 
forces  of  his  soul  for  the  purpose  of  hberating  himself 
from  these  advantages  and  preaching  the  truth,  since  in 
his  life  there  will  no  longer  be  any  other  aim  than  that 
of  serving  God.  But  if  he  belongs  to  the  enslaved,  he, 
renouncing  the  desire  to  improve  the  conditions  of  his 
carnal  life,  which  is  common  to  men  in  his  position,  will 
similarly  have  no  other  aim  than  that  of  doing  God's  will, 
in  arraigning  the  lie  and  professing  the  truth,  and  no 
suffering  and  no  threats  will  be  able  to  keep  him  from 
living  in  accordance  with  that  one  meaning  which  he  rec- 
ognizes in  his  life.  Either  will  act  as  naturally  as  labours 
a  worldly  man  who  bears  privations  for  the  acquisition  of 
wealth  or  for  the  purpose  of  pleasing  the  migbty  of  the 
world  from  whom  he  expects  some  advantage.  Every 
religious  man  acts  thus  because  a  man's  soul  which  is 
enlightened  by  religion  no  longer  lives  this  life  of  the 
world  alone,  as  it  is  lived  by  irreligious  people,  but  the 
eternal,  infinite  life,  for  which  sufferings  and  death  in  this 
life  are  as  insignificant  as  are,  for  the  labourer  who  ploughs 
the  field,  the  calluses  on  his  hands  and  the  weariness  of 
his  limbs. 

It  is  these  men  who  will  break  the  magic  circle  in 
which  people  are  now  held  fettered.  No  matter  how  few 
such  men  there  are,  no  matter  how  low  their  social  posi- 
tion may  be,  no  matter  how  feeble  they  may  be  in  intel- 
lect or  education,  they  will,  as  certainly  as  the  fire  consumes 
the  dry  steppe,  inflame  th;-  whole  world,  all  the  hearts  of 
men,  which  have  dried  up  from  a  long  irreligious  hfe  and 
which  thirst  for  renovation. 

Eehgion  is  not  a  faith,  once  for  all  established,  in  cer- 
tain supernatural  events  which  are  supposed  to  have  taken 
place  in  the  past,  or  in  the  necessity  of  certain  prayers 
and  rites ;  nor  is  it,  as  the  learned  think,  a  remainder  of 


128  WHAT    IS    RELIGION  T 

the  superstitions  of  ancient  ignorance,  which  in  our  time 
has  no  meaning  and  no  application  in  life ;  religion  is  an 
estabhshed  relation,  concordant  with  reason  and  modern 
knowledge,  of  man  to  everlasting  life,  to  God,  which  alone 
moves  humanity  forward  toward  its  predestined  end. 

"  The  human  soul  is  God's  lamp,"  says  a  wise  Jewish 
proverb.  Man  is  a  weak,  unfortunate  animal  so  loug  as 
God's  light  does  not  shine  in  him.  But  when  this  light 
burns  up  (and  it  burns  only  in  a  soul  that  is  enlightened 
by  religion),  man  becomes  the  most  powerful  being  of  the 
universe.  This  cannot  be  otherwise,  because  then  it  is  no 
longer  his  own  force,  but  God's,  that  acts  in  him. 

So  this  is  what  religion  is  and  what  its  essence  is. 

February,  1902, 


TO     THE    WORKING     PEOPLE 

1902 


TO     THE     WORKING    PEOPLE 


"  And  ye  shall  know  the  truth,  and  the  truth  shall 
make  you  free"  (John  viii.  32). 

I  HAVE  but  little  time  left  to  live,  and  I  should  like 
before  my  death  to  tell  you,  working  people,  what  I  have 
been  thinking  about  your  oppressed  condition  and  about 
those  means  which  will  help  you  to  free  yourselves 
from  it. 

Maybe  something  of  what  I  have  been  thinking  (and 
I  have  been  thinking  much  about  it)  will  do  you  some 
good. 

I  naturally  turn  to  the  Eussian  labourers,  among  whom 
I  live  and  whom  I  know  better  than  the  labourers  of  any 
other  country,  but  I  hope  that  my  remarks  may  not  be 
useless  to  the  labourers  of  other  countries  as  well. 


Every  one  who  has  eyes  and  a  heart  sees  that  you, 
working  men,  are  obliged  to  pass  your  lives  in  want  and 
in  hard  labour,  which  is  useless  to  you,  while  other  men, 
who  do  not  work,  enjoy  all  that  you  accomplish,  —  that 
you  are  the  slaves  of  these  men,  and  that  this  ought  not 
to  be. 

But  what  should  be  done  that  this  might  not  be  ? 

The  first,  simplest,  and  most  natural  means  which  from 

lai 


132  TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE 

olden  times  has  presented  itself  to  men  is  by  force  to  take 
from  those  who  hve  by  your  labour  what  they  enjoy 
illegally.  Thus  since  remote  antiquity  acted  the  slaves 
in  Kome  and  the  peasants  in  the  Middle  Ages  in  Ger- 
many and  in  France.  Thus  they  have  frequently  acted 
in  Russia,  since  the  time  of  St^uka  Eazin,  of  Pugach^v. 
Thus  even  now  Eussian  labourers  at  times  act. 

This  means  suggests  itself  to  the  injured  working  men 
before  any  other,  and  yet  this  means  not  only  never 
attains  its  end,  but  always  more  certainly  makes  worse, 
rather  than  improves,  the  condition  of  the  working  men. 
It  was  possible  anciently,  when  the  power  of  the  govern- 
ment was  not  yet  so  strong  as  it  is  now,  to  hope  for  the 
success  of  such  uprisings ;  but  now,  when  in  the  hands  of 
the  government,  which  always  protects  those  who  do  not 
work,  are  immense  sums  of  money,  and  the  railways,  and 
the  telegraphs,  and  the  police,  and  the  gendarmes,  and  the 
army,  all  such  attempts  end,  as  lately  ended  the  uprisings 
in  the  Governments  of  Poltava  and  of  Kharkov,  in  the 
torture  and  execution  of  the  rioters,  and  the  power  of 
the  non-workers  over  the  workers  is  only  made  more  firm. 

In  trying  to  oppose  violence  to  violence,  you,  working 
men,  do  what  a  man  bound  with  ropes  would  do  if,  to  free 
himself,  he  should  tug  at  the  ropes  :  he  would  only  tighten 
the  knots  which  fetter  him.  The  same  is  true  as  regards 
your  attempts  by  means  of  violence  to  take  away  what  is 
withheld  from  you  by  means  of  violence. 


It  has  now  become  obvious  that  the  method  of  riots 
does  not  attain  its  purpose,  and  that  it  does  not  improve 
the  condition  of  the  working  men,  but  rather  makes  it 
worse.  And  so  of  late,  men  who  desire,  or  who  at  least 
say  that  they  desire,  the  good  of  the  working  masses,  have 
discovered  a  new  means  for  the  liberation  of  the  working 


CO 

o 

C5 


-« 
'« 


TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE  133 

men.  This  new  means  is  based  on  the  teaching  that  all 
the  working  men,  after  being  deprived  of  the  land  which 
they  formerly  possessed,  and  after  having  become  hired 
labourers  (which  according  to  this  teaching  is  to  happen 
as  inevitably  as  the  sunset  at  a  given  hour),  will  arrange 
unions,  societies,  demonstrations,  and  will  choose  their 
partisans  for  parliament,  and  thus  will  keep  improving 
their  condition,  and  finally  will  appropriate  to  themselves 
all  the  works  and  factories,  in  general  all  the  implements 
of  labour,  among  them  the  land,  and  then  will  be  abso- 
lutely free  and  prosperous.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that 
this  teaching,  which  proposes  this  means,  is  full  of  ob- 
scurities, arbitrary  propositions  and  contradictions  and 
simple  absurdities,  it  has  of  late  been  disseminated  more 
and  more  widely. 

This  doctrine  is  accepted  not  only  in  those  countries 
where  the  majority  of  the  population  has  for  several  gen- 
erations fallen  away  from  agricultural  labour,  but  also 
where  the  majority  of  working  men  have  not  yet  thought 
of  abandoning  the  land. 

It  would  seem  that  a  doctrine  which  first  of  all  de- 
mands the  transition  of  the  agricultural  labourer  from  the 
customary,  healthy,  and  joyous  conditions  of  varied  agri- 
cultural labour  to  the  unhealthy,  sombre,  and  pernicious 
conditions  of  monotonous,  stultifying  work,  and  from  that 
independence,  which  the  village  worker  feels  in  satisfying 
nearly  all  his  needs,  to  the  complete  slavish  dependence 
of  the  factory  workman  on  his  master,  ought  to  have  no 
success  in  countries  where  the  labourers  still  live  on  the 
land  and  support  themselves  by  means  of  agricultural 
labour.  But  the  preaching  of  this  modern  doctrine,  called 
socialism,  even  in  such  countries  as  Russia,  where  ninety- 
eight  per  cent,  of  the  la])ouring  population  lives  by  means 
of  agricultural  labour,  is  gladly  accepted  by  those  two 
per  cent,  of  w^orking  men  who  have  fallen  away  from 
agricultural  labour. 


134  TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE 

This  is  due  to  the  fact  that,  when  he  abandons  the 
labour  on  the  laud,  the  working  man  involuntarily  submits 
to  those  temptations  which  are  connected  with  life  in  the 
city  and  in  the  factory.  The  justification  of  these  tempta- 
tions he  finds  only  in  the  socialistic  doctrine,  which  consid- 
ers the  increase  of  necessities  a  sign  of  man's  improvement. 

Such  working  men,  who  have  filled  themselves  with  frag- 
ments of  the  socialistic  doctrine,  preach  it  with  particular 
fervour  to  their  fellow  working  men,  considering  them- 
selves, in  consequence  of  this  propaganda  and  in  conse- 
quence of  those  needs  which  they  have  developed,  to  be 
advanced  people  who  stand  infinitely  higher  than  a  coarse 
peasant,  a  village  worker.  Fortunately,  there  are  still 
very  few  such  working  men  in  Eussia ;  the  vast  majority 
of  Eussian  labourers,  which  consists  of  agriculturists,  has 
never  heard  anything  about  the  socialistic  doctrine ;  if 
these  labourers  ever  heard  of  it,  they  receive  such  a  doc- 
trine as  entirely  alien  to  them  and  not  touching  upon 
their  real  needs. 

All  those  socialistic  methods  of  unions,  demonstrations, 
election  of  partisans  for  the  parliaments,  by  means  of 
which  the  factory  hands  try  to  lighten  their  condition  as 
slaves,  present  no  interest  for  free  agricultural  labourers. 

If  the  agricultural  labourers  need  anything,  it  is  not  a 
raise  of  wages,  not  a  diminution  of  hours  of  work,  not 
general  funds,  and  so  forth,  but  only  one  thing,  —  land,  of 
which  they  have  everywhere  too  little  to  be  able  to  sup- 
port themselves  upon  it  with  their  families.  But  of  this 
one  necessary  thing  for  the  rural  labourers  nothing  is 
said  in  the  socialistic  doctrine. 


All  sensible  Eussian  labourers  understand  that  land, 
free  land,  is  the  only  means  for  the  improvement  of  their 
condition  and  for  their  liberation  from  slavery. 


TO  THE  WORKING  PEOPLE         135 

This  is  what   a    Eussian   peasaut,  a   Stundist,  writes 
regarding  it  to  a  f  rieud  of  his : 

"  If  a  revolution  is  to  be  started,  while  the  land  remains 
private  property,  then,  of  course,  it  is  not  worth  while  to 
start  it.  Thus,  for  example,  our  brothers  who  live  abroad, 
in  Eoumania,  tell  us  that  there  they  have  a  constitution 
and  parliaments,  but  that  the  land  is  nearly  all  of  it  in 
the  hands  of  proprietors ;  so  what  use  is  this  parliament 
to  the  masses?  In  the  parliament,  they  say,  there  is 
taking  place  only  a  struggle  of  one  party  against  another, 
hut  the  masses  are  terribly  enslaved  and  in  servitude  to 
the  proprietors.  The  proprietors  have  huts  upon  their 
lands.  Half  of  the  land  they  generally  lease  to  the 
peasants,  as  a  rule  only  for  one  year.  When  a  peasant 
has  worked  the  land  well,  the  proprietor  himself  sows  in 
this  plot  the  next  year,  and  allots  another  piece  of 
ground  to  the  peasant.  After  these  poor  wretches  have 
lived  for  a  few  years  on  the  land  of  a  proprietor,  they 
still  remam  his  debtors ;  the  government  takes  their  last 
possessions  for  taxes,  —  their  horse,  cow,  wagon,  plough, 
clothes,  bed,  utensils,  —  and  sells  them  all  at  a  low  price. 
Then  the  poor  wretch  picks  up  his  starving  family  and 
goes  to  another  proprietor,  who  seems  to  him  to  be  kinder. 
This  one  gives  him  oxen,  a  plough,  seeds,  and  so  forth. 
But,  after  he  has  lived  here  for  some  time,  the  same  story 
is  repeated.  Then  he  goes  to  a  third  proprietor,  and  so 
forth.  Then  the  proprietors  who  do  their  own  sowing 
hire  labourers  during  the  harvest,  but  it  is  their  custom 
to  pay  the  wages  at  the  end  of  the  harvest,  and  but  few  of 
the  projjrietors  ever  pay  their  hands,  —  the  majority  hold 
back  half  the  pay,  if  not  all.  And  there  is  no  way  of  get- 
ting justice.  So  there  you  have  a  constitution !  There 
you  have  a  parliament ! 

"The  land  is  the  first  indispensable  condition  which 
the  masses  should  strive  after.  The  factories  and  works, 
it  seems  to  me,  will  naturally  pass  over  into  the  hands 


136  TO    THE   WORKING   PEOPLE 

of  the  working  men.  When  the  peasants  get  land,  they 
will  work  on  it  and  live  freely  upon  their  labour.  Then 
many  will  refuse  to  labour  in  the  factories  and  works, 
consequently  there  will  be  less  competition  for  the  work- 
ing men.  Then  the  wages  will  rise,  and  they  will  be 
able  to  orfjanize  their  circles  and  funds,  and  will  be  able 
themselves  to  compete  with  their  masters ;  then  the  latter 
will  not  find  it  advantageous  to  have  factories,  and 
they  will  enter  into  agreements  with  the  working  men. 
Land  is  the  chief  object  of  the  struggle.  This  ought  to 
be  explained  to  the  working  men.  Even  if  they  should 
obtain  an  increase  in  wages  this  would  be  only  temporary, 
to  allay  their  minds.  Then  again  the  conditions  of  life 
will  change,  if  instead  of  one  dissatisfied  man  ten  others 
shall  be  waiting  to  take  his  place.  How  can  they  then 
ask  for  an  increase  of  wages  ? " 

Though  the  information  given  in  the  letter  concerning 
the  state  of  affairs  in  Eoumania  is  not  quite  correct,  and 
though  in  other  countries  these  oppressions  do  not  exist, 
the  essence  of  the  matter,  which  is,  that  the  first  condi- 
tion for  the  improvement  of  the  working  men's  condition 
is  to  be  found  in  free  land,  is  in  this  letter  expressed  with 
unusual  clearness. 


Land  is  the  chief  object  of  the  struggle  !  so  writes  this 
unlearned  peasant.  But  the  learned  socialists  say  that 
the  chief  object  of  the  struggle  is  works,  factories,  and 
only  lastly  land.  For  the  working  men  to  get  land  they 
must,  according  to  the  doctrine  of  the  socialists,  first  of 
all  struggle  against  the  capitalists  for  the  possession 
of  plants  and  factories,  and  only  after  they  shall  have 
taken  possession  of  the  plants  and  factories  will  they  get 
possession  of  the  land.  Men  need  land,  and  they  are 
told  that  for  its  possession  they  must  first  of  all  abandon 
it  and  then  obtain  it  again  by  a  complex  process,  as  pre- 


TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE  137 

dieted  by  the  socialistic  prophets,  together  with  uuceces- 
sary  works  and  factories.  This  deuiaud  to  get  possession 
of  works  and  factories,  which  are  of  no  use  to  the  agri- 
culturists, in  order  to  get  possession  of  the  land,  reminds 
one  of  the  methods  used  by  certain  usurers.  You  ask 
such  a  usurer  for  a  thousand  roubles  in  money,  for  you 
need  only  the  money,  but  the  usurer  tells  you  :  "  I  can- 
not give  you  just  the  one  thousand  roubles ;  take  from 
me  five  thousand,  four  thousand  of  which  will  be  in  the 
form  of  a  few  tons  of  soap,  of  a  few  bolts  of  silk  stuffs, 
and  so  forth,  things  which  you  do  not  need,  and  then  I 
shall  be  able  to  give  you  the  one  thousand  roubles  in 
money  which  you  need." 

Even  so  the  socialists,  having  quite  irregularly  decided 
that  the  land  is  just  such  an  implement  of  labour  as  a 
plant  or  a  factory,  propose  to  the  labourers  who  are  suffer- 
ing only  from  lack  of  land,  that  they  go  away  from  the 
land  and  busy  themselves  with  taking  possession  of  the 
factories  which  produce  cannon,  guns,  soap,  mirrors,  rib- 
bons, and  all  kinds  of  articles  of  luxury,  and  then  only, 
after  these  labourers  shall  have  learned  quickly  and 
rapidly  to  produce  mirrors  and  ribbons,  but  shall  have 
become  unfit  to  work  the  land,  take  possession  of  the 
land  also. 


However  strange  it  is  to  see  a  working  man  who  has 
abandoned  a  life  in  the  country  amidst  the  freedom  of 
the  fields,  meadows,  and  woods,  and  who  ten  years  later, 
sometimes  even  after  several  generations,  rejoices  when 
he  receives  from  his  master  a  little  house  in  the  infected 
air  with  a  twenty-foot  garden  in  which  he  can  plant  a  dozen 
cucumbers  and  two  sunflowers,  —  such  a  joy  is  compre- 
hensible. 

The  possibility  of  living  on  the  land,  of  gaining  one's  sus- 
tenance from  it  by  means  of  one's  own  labour,  has  always 


138  TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE 

been  aud  always  will  be  one  of  the  chief  conditions  of  a 
happy  and  independent  human  life.  This  all  men  have 
always  known,  aud  so  all  men  have  always  striven  and 
never  stop  striving  and  always  will  strive,  like  a  fish  for 
the  water,  at  least  for  the  semblance  of  such  a  life. 

But  the  sociahstic  doctrine  says  that  for  the  happiness 
of  men  they  do  not  need  such  a  life  amidst  plants  and 
animals,  with  the  possibility  of  satisfying  nearly  all  their 
daily  wants  by  means  of  their  own  agricultural  labour, 
but  a  hfe  in  industrial  centres  with  infected  air,  and  with 
increasing  and  ever  increasing  demands,  the  gratification 
of  which  is  possible  only  by  means  of  senseless  labour  in 
the  factories.  And  the  working  men  who  are  enmeshed 
in  the  temptations  of  their  factory  lives  believe  this  and 
use  all  their  efforts  in  a  miserable  struggle  with  the 
capitalists  for  the  sake  of  hours  of  labour  and  additional 
pennies,  imagining  that  they  are  doing  some  very  impor- 
tant work,  whereas  the  only  important  work,  for  which 
those  working  men  who  have  been  torn  away  from  the 
land  ought  to  use  all  their  forces,  should  consist  in  finding 
a  means  of  returning  to  a  life  amidst  Nature  and  to 
agricultural  labour.  "  But,"  say  the  socialists,  ""  even 
if  it  were  true  that  a  life  amidst  Nature  is  better  than  a 
life  in  a  factory,  there  are  now  so  many  factory  workmen, 
and  these  men  have  abandoned  agricultural  life  so  long 
ago,  that  their  return  to  life  on  the  land  is  now  impossible. 
It  is  impossible  because  such  a  transition  will  without 
any  necessity  diminish  the  productions  of  the  manufactur- 
ing industries,  which  form  the  wealth  of  the  country. 
Besides,  even  if  this  were  not  so,  there  is  not  enough  free 
land  for  the  settlement  and  sustenance  of  all  factory 
workmen." 

It  is  not  true  that  the  working  men's  resettlement  of 
the  land  will  diminish  the  wealth  of  the  country,  because 
life  on  the  land  does  not  exclude  the  possibility  of  the 
labourers'  participation,  for  a  part  of  their  time,  in  manu- 


TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE  139 

facturing  labour  at  home  or  even  in  factories.  But  if,  in 
consequence  of  this  resettlement,  the  manufacture  of 
useless  and  injurious  articles,  which  now  are  produced 
with  great  rapidity  in  the  great  manufacturing  plants, 
shall  be  diminished,  and  the  now  usual  overproduction  of 
necessary  articles  shall  come  to  an  end,  while  the  amount 
of  corn,  vegetables,  fruit,  domestic  animals,  shall  be  in- 
creased, this  will  in  no  way  diminish  the  wealth  of  people, 
but  will  only  increase  it. 

But  that  argument  that  there  will  not  be  enough  land 
for  the  settlement  and  sustenance  of  all  the  working  men 
in  factories  is  untrue,  because  in  the  majority  of  countries, 
(to  say  nothing  of  Eussia,  wbere  the  land  retained  by  the 
large  landed  proprietors  would  suffice  for  all  the  factory 
working  men  in  Eussia  and  in  the  whole  of  Europe),  and 
even  in  such  countries  as  England  and  Belgium,  the  land 
which  belongs  to  the  large  landed  proprietors  would  suffice 
for  the  sustenance  of  all  working  people,  if  only  the 
cultivation  of  this  land  were  to  be  carried  to  that  stage  of 
perfection  which  it  can  attain  with  the  present  perfection 
of  the  mechanical  arts,  or  even  to  that  degree  of  perfection 
to  which  it  was  carried  thousands  of  years  ago  in  China. 

Let  those  who  are  interested  in  this  question  read 
Kropotkin's  books,  La  conquete  du  pain  and  Fields,  Fac- 
tories, and  Workshops,  and  the  very  good  book  published 
by  the  Fosrednik,  Popov's  l^he  Corn  Garden,  and  they  will 
see  how  many  times  the  productiveness  of  agriculture 
may  still  be  increased  with  intensive  cultivation,  how 
many  times  the  present  number  of  men  may  be  fed  from 
the  same  plot  of  ground.  The  improved  methods  of 
cultivation  will  certainly  be  introduced  by  the  small 
proprietors,  if  only  they  shall  not  be  compelled,  as  they 
now  are,  to  give  all  their  income  to  the  large  landowners, 
from  whom  they  rent  the  land  and  who  have  no  need  to 
increase  the  productiveness  of  the  land  from  which  they 
without  any  care  derive  a  great  income. 


140  TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE 

They  say  that  there  will  not  be  enough  free  land  for  all 
workiug  people,  and  so  it  is  not  worth  while  to  worry 
about  the  land  which  is  kept  from  them  by  the  laud- 
owners. 

This  reflection  is  as  if  an  owner  of  a  house  were  to  sav 
concerning  a  crowd  standing  in  a  storm  and  in  the  cold 
in  front  of  an  unoccupied  house  and  asking  him  to  be 
allowed  to  take  shelter  in  it :  "  These  people  must  not 
be  let  in,  because  anyway  they  cannot  all  of  them  be 
accommodated  in  it."  Let  in  those  who  beg  to  be  let  in, 
and  then  we  shall  see,  from  the  way  they  locate  them- 
selves, whether  all  can  be  accommodated,  or  only  a  part. 
And  even  if  not  all  can  be  accommodated,  why  should  not 
those  be  admitted  who  can  find  room  ? 

The  same  is  true  of  the  land.  Give  the  land  which  is 
kept  back  from  the  working  men  to  those  who  ask  for  it, 
and  then  we  shall  see  whether  this  land  is  sufficient 
or  not. 

Besides,  the  argument  about  the  insufficiency  of  land 
for  the  working  people,  who  now  work  in  factories,  is 
incorrect  in  its  essence.  If  the  factory  population  now 
feed  on  bread  which  they  buy,  there  is  no  reason  why, 
instead  of  buying  the  grain  which  is  produced  by  others, 
they  should  not  themselves  work  the  land  on  which  the 
grain  is  produced  and  on  which  they  feed,  no  matter 
where  this  land  may  be,  in  India,  Argentina,  Australia,  or 
Siberia. 

Thus  all  the  arguments  about  why  the  workmen  in  the 
factories  should  not  and  could  not  go  back  to  the  land 
have  no  foundation  wliatever ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  clear 
that  such  a  change  not  only  could  not  be  injurious  to  the 
common  welfare,  but  would  even  increase  it  and  would 
certainly  do  away  with  those  chronic  famines  in  India, 
Kussia,  and  other  places  which  more  obviously  than  any- 
thing else  show  the  irregularity  of  the  present  distribution 
of  land. 


TO    THE    WOEKING    PEOPLE  141 

It  is  true,  where  the  manufacturing  industry  is  particu- 
larly developed,  as  in  England,  Belgium,  and  a  few  States 
in  America,  the  life  of  the  working  people  has  to  such  an 
extent  been  corrupted  that  the  return  to  the  laud  presents 
itself  as  very  difficult.  But  the  difficulty  of  such  a  return 
of  the  working  men  to  an  agricultural  life  by  no  means 
excludes  the  possibility  of  realizing  such  a  change.  For 
it  to  take  place  it  is  necessary  for  the  working  people  first 
of  all  to  understand  that  this  change  is  indispensable  for 
their  good,  and  that  they  should  find  means  for  its  realiza- 
tion, instead  of  accepting  (as  the  socialistic  doctrine  now 
teaches  them)  their  factory  slavery  as  their  eternal,  im- 
mutable condition,  which  can  be  alleviated,  but  never 
destroyed. 

Thus  even  the  working  men  who  have  left  the  land  and 
live  by  factory  labour  do  not  need  unions,  societies,  strikes, 
childish  processions  with  flags  on  the  first  of  May,  and 
so  forth,  but  only  this,  —  the  finding  of  means  for  freeing 
themselves  from  their  factory  slavery  and  for  settling  on 
the  land,  the  chief  impediment  to  which  is  found  in  the 
seizure  of  the  land  by  the  owners  who  do  not  work  it. 
This  they  should  ask  and  demand  of  their  rulers.  And, 
in  demanding  this,  they  will  not  be  demanding  something 
not  their  own,  not  belonging  to  them,  but  the  restitution 
of  their  most  unc^uestionable  and  inalienable  right,  which 
is  inherent  in  every  animal,  to  live  on  the  land  and  get 
their  sustenance  from  it,  without  asking  anybody  else's 
permission  to  do  so. 

It  is  for  this  that  the  deputies  of  the  working  men 
ought  to  struggle  in  the  parliaments ;  this  ought  to  be 
preached  by  the  press  which  stands  on  the  side  of  the 
working  men ;  for  this  the  working  men  in  the  factories 
must  prepare  themselves. 

Thus  it  is  in  the  case  of  the  labourers  who  have  left 
the  land.  But  for  labourers,  hke  the  majority  of  the 
Russian  labourers,  ninety-eight  per  cent,  of  whom  still  live 


142  TO    THE    WOKKING    PEOPLE 

on  the  land,  the  question  consists  only  in  this,  how  they 
may  be  able  to  improve  their  condition,  without  aban- 
doning their  land  and  surrendering  themselves  to  the 
temptations  of  a  factory  life. 

For  this  one  thing  is  needed,  —  to  turn  over  to  the  la- 
bourers the  land  which  is  now  held  by  the  large  landowners. 

Talk  in  Russia  with  any  peasant  you  meet,  who  is 
working  in  town,  ask  why  he  is  not  faring  well,  and  he 
will  invariably  answer  one  and  the  same  thing :  "  I  have 
no  land,  nothing  to  put  my  hands  to." 

And  here,  in  Russia,  where  the  whole  nation  raises  an 
unabated  cry  on  account  of  the  insufficiency  of  land,  men 
who  think  that  they  are  serving  the  masses  do  not  preach 
to  them  about  means  for  returning  to  them  the  land 
which  has  been  taken  away  from  them,  but  about  methods 
for  struggling  in  the  factories  with  the  capitalists. 

"  But  should  all  men  live  in  the  country  and  busy 
themselves  with  agriculture  ? "  will  say  people  who  are  to 
such  an  extent  accustomed  to  the  unnatural  life  of  the 
men  of  the  present  time  that  this  presents  itself  to  them 
as  rather  strange  and  impossible.  But  why  should  not 
all  men  live  in  the  country  and  busy  themselves  with 
agriculture  ?  However,  if  people  shall  be  found  with 
such  strange  tastes  as  to  prefer  the  factory  slavery  to  the 
hfe  in  the  country,  nothing  will  keep  them  from  doing 
so.  The  only  point  is  that  every  man  should  have  a 
chance  to  live  in  human  fashion.  When  we  say  that  it 
is  desirable  that  every  man  should  have  a  family,  we  do 
not  say  that  every  man  should  get  married  and  have 
children,  but  only,  that  we  do  not  approve  of  a  structure 
of  society  in  which  a  man  cannot  have  the  chance 
to  do  so. 


Even  during  the  time  of  serfdom,  the  peasants  used  to 
say  to  their  masters,  "  We  are  yours,  but  the  laud  is  ours/' 


TO    THE    WORKING   PEOPLE  143 

that  is,  they  recognized  that,  no  matter  how  illegal  and 
cruel  the  possession  of  one  man  by  another  was,  the  right 
of  a  man  to  own  land  without  working  it  was  even  more 
illegal  and  cruel.  It  is  true,  of  late  a  few  of  the  Russian 
peasants,  imitating  the  landowners,  have  begun  to  buy 
land  and  to  deal  in  it,  considering  the  ownership  of  it  to 
be  legal,  no  longer  afraid  that  it  will  be  taken  from  them. 
But  thus  act  only  a  few  fi'ivolous  peasants  who  are 
bhuded  by  greed.  The  majority,  all  the  real  Russian 
agriculturists,  believe  firmly  that  the  land  cannot  and 
must  not  be  the  property  of  those  who  do  not  work  it, 
and  that,  although  now  the  land  is  taken  away  froui  the 
workers  by  those  who  do  not  work  it,  the  time  will  come 
when  it  shall  be  taken  away  from  those  who  now  own  it 
and  shall  become,  as  it  ought  to  be,  a  common  possession. 
A  nd  the  Russian  peasants  are  quite  right  in  believing  that 
this  is  so  and  should  be  so.  The  time  has  come  when 
the  injustice,  irrationahty,  and  cruelty  of  the  ownership 
of  land  by  those  who  do  not  work  it  has  become  as 
obvious  as  fifty  years  ago  were  obvious  the  injustice,  irra- 
tionality, and  cruelty  of  the  ownership  of  serfs.  Either 
because  the  other  methods  of  oppression  have  been  des- 
troyed, or  because  the  number  of  people  has  increased, 
or  because  men  have  become  more  enlightened,  all  (both 
those  who  own  land  and  those  who  are  deprived  of  it) 
see  clearly  what  they  did  not  see  before,  that  if  a  peas- 
ant who  has  worked  all  his  hfe  has  not  enough  grain, 
because  he  has  no  ground  on  which  to  sow  it,  if  he  has 
no  milk  for  the  children  and  for  the  old,  because  he 
has  no  pasture,  if  he  has  not  a  rod  of  timber  with  which 
to  mend  his  rotten  cabin  and  keep  it  warm,  while  the 
neighbouring  landowner,  who  does  no  work,  lives  on  an 
immense  estate,  feeding  milk  to  his  puppies,  building 
arbours  and  stables  with  plate-glass  windows,  raising 
sheep  and  establishing  forests  and  parks  on  tens  of  thou- 
sands of  desyatinas  of  land,  spending  in  food  in  a  week 


144  TO    THE    WOKKING    PEOPLE 

what  would  keep  a  famished  neighbouring  village  alive 
for  a  whole  year,  —  such  a  structure  of  life  should  not 
exist.  The  injustice,  irrationality,  and  cruelty  of  such  a 
state  of  affairs  now  startles  everybody,  just  as  formerly 
men  were  startled  by  the  injustice,  irrationality,  and 
cruelty  of  serfdom.  And  as  soon  as  the  injustice,  irra- 
tionality, and  cruelty  of  any  structure  become  clear  to 
men,  this  structure  will  in  one  way  or  another  come 
to  an  end.  Thus  ended  serfdom,  and  thus  very  soon 
landed  property  will  come  to  an  end. 


Landed  property  must  inevitably  be  destroyed,  because 
the  injustice,  irrationahty,  and  cruelty  of  this  institution 
have  become  too  obvious.  The  only  question  is  how  it 
will  be  abolished.  Serfdom  and  slavery,  not  only  in 
Eussia,  but  also  in  all  other  countries,  have  been  abolished 
by  order  of  the  governments.  And  it  would  seem  that  the 
ownership  of  land  could  be  abolished  by  a  similar  order. 
But  it  is  not  likely  that  such  an  order  can  or  will  ever  be 
promulgated  by  a  government. 

All  governments  are  composed  of  men  who  live  by 
other  people's  labour,  and  it  is  the  ownership  of  land 
that  more  than  anything  else  makes  it  possible  to  lead 
such  a  hfe.  It  is  not  the  rulers  and  the  large  landed 
proprietors  alone  who  will  not  permit  the  abolition  of 
landed  property :  men  who  have  nothing  in  common  with 
the  government  or  with  the  ownership  of  land,  officials, 
artists,  scholars,  merchants,  who  serve  the  rich,  feeling 
instinctively  that  their  advantageous  position  is  connected 
with  the  ownership  of  land,  either  always  defend  the 
ownership  of  land,  or,  attacking  everything  which  is  less 
important,  never  touch  the  question  of  the  ownership  of 
land. 

A  striking  illustration  of  such  a  relation  to  the  question 


TO  THE  WORKING  PEOPLE         145 

on  the  part  of  the  men  of  the  wealthy  classes  may  be 
found  in  the  change  that  has  taken  place  in  the  views 
of  the  famous  Herbert  Spencer  concerning  the  ownership 
of  land.  So  long  as  Herbert  Spencer  was  a  young  be- 
ginner, who  had  no  ties  with  the  rich  and  the  rulers,  he 
looked  upon  the  question  of  the  ownership  of  land  as  every 
man  who  is  not  tied  by  any  preconceived  notions  must 
look  upon  it :  he  rejected  it  in  the  most  radical  manner 
and  proved  its  injustice.  But  decades  passed,  Herbert 
Spencer  from  an  unknown  young  man  became  a  famous 
writer,  who  established  relations  with  rulers  and  large 
landed  proprietors,  and  he  to  such  an  extent  modified  his 
views  upon  the  ownership  of  land  that  he  tried  to  destroy 
all  those  editions  in  which  he  had  so  forcibly  expressed 
the  correct  ideas  about  the  illegality  of  landed  prop- 
erty. 

Thus  the  majority  of  well-to-do  people  feel  instinctively, 
if  not  consciously,  that  their  advantageous  position  de- 
pends on  the  ownership  of  the  land.  To  this  is  due  the 
fact  that  the  parliaments  in  their  pretended  cares  for  the 
good  of  the  masses  propose,  discuss,  and  adopt  the  most 
varied  measures  which  are  to  improve  the  condition  of 
the  masses,  but  not  the  one  which  alone  really  improve* 
the  condition  of  the  masses  and  is  indispensable  to  them, 
—  the  abohtion  of  the  ownership  of  land. 

Thus,  to  solve  the  question  about  the  ownership  of  the 
land,  it  is  necessary  first  of  all  to  destroy  the  consciously 
concordant  silence  which  has  established  itself  in  regard 
to  this  question.  Thus  it  is  in  those  countries  where 
part  of  the  power  is  in  the  parhaments.  But  in  Eussia, 
where  the  whole  power  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Tsar,  the 
provision  for  the  abolition  of  the  ownership  of  land  is  still 
less  possible.  In  Eussia  the  power  is  only  nominally  in 
the  hands  of  the  Tsar ;  in  reality  it  is  in  the  hands  of  a 
few  hundreds  of  fortuitous  men,  relatives  and  near  frieuds 
of  the  Tsar,  who  compel  him  to  do  what  pleases  them. 


14:6  TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE 

Now  all  these  men  own  immense  tracts  of  land,  and  so 
they  will  never  allow  the  Tsar,  even  if  he  should  wish 
to  do  so,  to  free  the  laud  from  the  power  of  the  landed 
proprietors.  No  matter  how  hard  it  was  for  the  Tsar  who 
liberated  the  peasants  to  compel  his  retainers  to  give  up 
the  right  of  serfdom,  he  was  able  to  do  so,  because  these 
retainers  did  not  give  up  the  land.  But  in  giving  up  the 
land,  the  retainers  and  the  relatives  of  the  Tsar  know  that 
they  lose  their  last  chance  of  living  as  they  have  been 
accustomed  to  live. 

Thus  it  is  absolutely  impossible  to  expect  the  emanci- 
pation of  the  land  from  the  government  in  general,  and 
in  Eussia  from  the  Tsar. 

It  is  impossible  by  means  of  violence  to  take  away  the 
land  which  is  retained  by  the  landed  proprietors,  because 
the  strength  has  always  been  and  will  always  be  on  the 
side  of  those  who  have  already  seized  the  power.  It  is 
quite  senseless  to  wait  for  the  emancipation  of  the  land 
to  be  achieved  in  the  manner  proposed  by  the  socialists, 
that  is,  to  be  prepared  to  give  up  the  conditions  of  a  good 
life  for  the  very  worst  in  expectation  of  the  sweet  by 
and  by. 

.  Every  rational  man  sees  that  this  method  not  only  does 
not  emancipate,  but  more  and  more  makes  the  working 
men  the  slaves  of  their  masters,  and  prepares  them  for 
slavery  in  the  future  in  relation  to  those  managers  who 
will  have  charge  of  the  new  order.  It  is  still  more  sense- 
less to  wait  for  the  abolition  of  the  ownership  of  land 
from  a  representative  government  or  from  the  Tsar,  as 
the  Eussian  peasants  have  been  waiting  for  it  for  the  last 
two  reigns,  because  all  the  retainers  of  the  Tsar  and  the 
Tsar  himself  own  immense  tracts  of  land,  and,  though 
they  pretend  to  be  interested  in  the  welfare  of  the  peas- 
ants, never  will  give  them  the  one  thing  which  they 
need,  —  the  land,  —  because  they  know  that  without  the 
ownership  of  the  land  they  will  be  deprived  of  their  ad- 


TO    THE    WORKING   PEOPLE  147 

vantageous  position  as  idle  men  who  enjoy  the  labours  of 
the  masses. 

What,  then,  are  the  working  men  to  do  in  order  to  free 
themselves  from  the  oppression  in  which  they  are  ? 

8 

At  first  it  seems  that  there  is  nothing  to  he  done,  and 
that  the  working  men  are  so  fettered  that  they  have  no 
possibihty  whatever  of  freeing  themselves.  But  that  only 
seems  so.  The  working  men  need  only  ponder  on  the 
causes  of  their  enslavement,  to  see  that,  besides  riots,  be- 
sides socialism,  and  besides  the  vain  hopes  in  the  govern- 
ments, and  in  Russia  in  the  Tsar,  they  have  a  means  for 
freeing  themselves,  such  as  no  one  and  nothing  can  inter- 
fere with  and  as  always  has  been  and  even  now  is  in  their 
hands. 

Indeed,  there  is  but  one  cause  for  the  wretched  condi- 
tion of  the  working  men,  —  it  is  this,  that  the  landed  pro- 
prietors own  the  land  which  the  working  men  need.  But 
what  is  it  that  gives  the  proprietors  the  possibihty  of 
owning  this  land  ? 

In  the  first  place,  this,  that  in  case  the  working  men 
attempt  to  make  use  of  this  land  they  send  for  troops, 
which  will  disperse,  beat,  and  kill  those  working  men  who 
have  seized  the  land,  and  wiU  return  it  to  the  land- 
owners. Now  these  troops  are  composed  of  you,  the 
working  men.  Thus  you  yourselves,  the  working  men, 
by  becoming  soldiers  and  obeying  the  military  authorities, 
make  it  possible  for  the  landed  proprietors  to  own  their 
land,  which  ought  to  belong  to  you.  (That  a  Christian 
cannot  be  a  soldier,  that  is,  that  he  cannot  promise  to  kill 
his  like,  and  must  refuse  to  use  weapons,  I  have  written 
about  many  times,  among  others  in  a  pamphlet,  The  Sol- 
diers' Memento,  where  I  tried  to  prove  from  the  Gospel 
why  every  Christian  should  do  so.) 


148  TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE 

But,  besides  your  making  it  possible,  by  your  participa- 
tion in  the  army,  for  the  proprietors  to  own  the  laud 
which  belongs  to  all  men,  consequently  also  to  you,  you 
also  give  this  possibility  to  the  proprietors  by  working  on 
the  proprietors'  lauds  and  by  renting  them.  You,  the 
labourers,  need  only  stop  doing  so,  and  the  ownership  of 
the  laud  will  not  only  become  useless  for  the  proprietors, 
but  also  impossible,  and  their  land  will  become  common 
property.  No  matter  how  much  the  landed  proprietors 
may  try  to  substitute  machines  for  labourers,  and  instead 
of  agriculture  to  introduce  cattle-raising  and  forestry,  they 
none  the  less  cannot  get  along  without  labourers,  and  they 
will  one  after  another  and  willy-nilly  give  up  their  lands. 

Thus  the  means  for  freeing  vou,  the  working  men,  from 
your  enslavement  consists  only  in  this,  that,  having  come 
to  understand  that  the  ownership  of  land  is  a  crime,  you 
must  not  take  part  in  it,  either  as  soldiers,  who  take  the 
land  away  from  the  workers,  or  as  labourers  on  the  lands 
of  the  proprietors,  or  as  tenants  on  these  lands. 


"  But  the  means  of  non-participation,  both  in  the  army 
and  in  the  work  on  the  lands  of  the  proprietors,  as  also  in 
the  hiring  of  lands,  would  be  effective,"  I  shall  be  told, 
"  only  in  case  all  the  working  people  of  the  world  struck 
and  refused  to  take  part  in  the  crimes,  to  work  on  the 
estates  of  the  proprietors,  and  to  rent  land,  and  this  is  not 
the  case  and  never  can  be  the  case.  Even  if  a  part  of 
the  working  men  should  agree  to  abstain  from  participat- 
ing in  the  army  and  from  working  on  the  land  of  the 
proprietors  and  renting  it,  the  other  working  people,  fre- 
quently the  working  people  of  other  nationalities,  will  not 
find  such  a  restraint  necessary,  and  the  ownership  of  the 
land  by  the  proprietors  will  not  be  impaired.  Thus 
the  working  people  who  will  refuse  to  take  part  in  the 


TO  THE  WORKING  PEOPLE         149 

ownership  of  the  land  will  only  be  deprived  of  their  ad- 
vantages in  vain,  without  alleviating  the  condition  of  all." 
This  retort  is  quite  just,  if  it  is  a  question  of  a  strike. 
But  what  I  propose  is  not  a  strike.  I  do  not  propose  a 
strike,  but  that  the  working  people  shall  refuse  to  take  part 
in  the  army,  which  exercises  violence  against  their  broth- 
ers, and  in  working  on  the  lands  of  the  proprietors,  in 
renting  them,  not  because  this  is  unprofitable  for  the 
labourers  and  produces  their  enslavement,  but  because 
this  participation  is  a  bad  thing,  from  which  any  good 
man  must  abstain,  just  as  he  must  abstain,  not  only  from 
every  murder,  theft,  robbery,  and  so  forth,  but  also 
from  participation  in  these  acts.  That  the  participation  in 
the  lawlessness  of  the  ownership  of  land  and  its  support 
are  bad  things  there  can  be  no  doubt,  if  the  working  men 
will  only  ponder  on  the  whole  meaning  of  this  their  par- 
ticipation in  the  ownership  of  the  land  by  the  non-work- 
ers. To  support  the  proprietors'  ownership  of  the  land 
means  to  be  the  cause  of  the  privations  and  sufferings  of 
thousands  of  people,  of  old  men  and  children,  who  are  insuf- 
ficiently fed,  and  who  work  above  their  strength,  and  who 
die  before  their  time,  only  because  they  do  not  get  the 
land  which  has  been  seized  by  the  proprietors. 

If  such  are  the  consequences  of  the  ownership  of  land 
by  the  proprietors,  —  and  it  is  obvious  to  any  one  that 
they  are  such,  —  it  is  also  clear  that  participation  in  the 
ownership  of  land  by  the  proprietors  and  in  its  mainte- 
nance is  a  bad  thing  from  which  every  man  must  abstain. 
Hundreds  of  millions  of  men  without  any  strike  consider 
usury,  debauchery,  \dolence  against  the  weak,  theft,  mur- 
der, and  many  other  things  to  be  evil,  and  abstain  from 
these  acts.  The  working  men  ought  to  do  the  same  in 
respect  to  the  ownership  of  laud.  They  themselves  see 
the  whole  lawlessness  of  such  ownership  and  consider  it  a 
bad,  cruel  business.  So  why  do  they  not  only  take  part 
in  it,  but  even  support  it  ? 


150  TO   THE   WORKING    PEOPLE 


10 

Thus  I  do  not  propose  a  strike,  but  a  clear  conscious- 
ness of  the  criminality,  the  sinfulness  of  the  participation 
in  the  ownership  of  land,  and,  in  consequence  of  this  con- 
sciousness, the  abstaining  from  such  a  participation.  It 
is  true,  such  an  abstinence  does  not,  like  a  strike,  at  once 
unite  all  interested  people  in  one  decision  and  so  cannot 
give  those  results,  defined  in  advance,  which  are  obtained 
by  a  strike,  if  it  is  successful ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
such  an  abstinence  produces  a  much  more  lasting  and 
continuous  union  than  the  one  produced  by  a  strike.  The 
artificial  union  of  men  which  arises  at  a  strike  comes  to 
an  end  the  moment  the  aim  of  the  strike  is  attained ;  but 
the  union,  from  a  concordant  activity  or  from  abstinence 
in  consequence  of  an  identical  consciousness,  not  only 
never  comes  to  an  end,  but  constantly  grows  stronger, 
attracting  an  ever  increasing  number  of  men.  Thus  it 
can  and  must  be  in  the  case  of  the  working  men's  abstain- 
ing from  taking  part  in  the  ownership  of  land,  not  in 
consequence  of  a  strike,  but  in  consequence  of  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  sinfulness  of  this  participation.  It  is 
very  likely  that,  when  the  working  men  shall  understand 
the  lawlessness  of  participation  in  the  proprietors'  owner- 
ship of  land,  not  all  of  them,  but  only  a  small  part,  will 
abstain  from  working  on  the  proprietors'  lands  and  from 
renting  them ;  but  since  they  will  not  abstain  m  conse- 
quence of  an  agreement,  which  has  a  local  and  a  temporary 
significance,  but  from  tlie  consciousness  of  what  is  right 
and  wrong,  which  is  always  and  for  all  men  equally  bind- 
ing, it  will  be  natural  for  the  number  of  working  men, 
who  will  be  shown  by  word  and  by  example,  both  the 
illegality  of  the  ownership  of  land  and  those  consequences 
which  arise  from  this  illegality,  to  be  constantly  in- 
creasing. 

It  is  absolutely  impossible  to  foresee  what  change  in 


TO    THE    WORKING   PEOPLE  151 

the  structure  of  society  will  actually  be  produced  by  the 
working  men's^ recognition  that  participation  in  the  own- 
ership of  land  is  bad,  but  there  is  no  doubt  that  these 
changes  will  take  place  and  that  they  will  be  the  more 
significant,  the  more  this  consciousness  shall  be  diffused. 
These  changes  may  consist  in  this,  that  at  least  a  part  of 
the  working  men  will  refuse  to  work  for  the  proprietors 
and  to  rent  land  from  them,  and  the  landowners,  no 
longer  finding  the  ownership  of  land  to  be  profitable,  will 
either  enter  into  arrangements  with  the  working  men 
whicli  will  be  advantageous  for  them,  or  else  will  entirely 
give  up  the  ownership  of  land.  It  is  also  possible  that 
the  working  men  who  are  enlisted  in  the  army,  having 
come  to  comprehend  the  illegality  of  the  ownership  of 
land,  will  more  and  more  frequently  refuse  to  take  part 
in  acts  of  violence  against  their  brothers,  the  agricultural 
labourers,  and  the  government  will  be  compelled  to  aban- 
don the  protection  of  the  proprietors'  landed  property,  and 
the  land  of  the  proprietors  will  become  free. 

Finally,  it  may  be  that  the  government,  having  come 
to  see  the  inevitableness  of  the  emancipation  of  the  land, 
will  find  it  necessary  to  forestall  the  victory  of  the  work- 
ing men  by  lending  it  the  aspect  of  its  own  decree,  and 
will  by  law  abolish  the  ownership  of  land. 

The  changes  which  can  and  must  take  place  in  the 
ownership  of  land,  in  consequence  of  the  working  men's 
recognition  of  the  illegality  of  participation  in  the  owner- 
ship of  land,  may  be  very  varied,  and  it  is  difficult  to 
foresee  of  precisely  what  character  they  will  be,  but  one 
thing  is  unquestionable,  and  that  is,  that  not  one  sincere 
effort  of  a  man  to  act  in  this  matter  in  godly  fashion  or 
in  accordance  with  his  conscience  will  be  lost. 

"  What  can  I  alone  do  against  all  ? "  people  frequently 
say,  when  they  are  confronted  with  an  act  which  is  not 
countenanced  by  the  majority.  To  these  people  it  seems 
that  for  the  success  of  a  thing  there  must  be  all,  or  at 


152  TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE 

least  many;  but  there  must  be  many  only  for  a  bad 
thing.  For  a  good  thing  it  is  enough  if^  there  be  one, 
because  God  is  always  with  him  who  does  a  good  thing. 
And  with  whom  God  is,  sooner  or  later  all  men  will  be. 

In  any  case,  all  the  improvements  in  the  condition  of 
the  working  men  will  take  place  only  because  they  will 
themselves  act  more  in  conformity  with  God's  will,  more 
according  to  their  conscience,  that  is,  more  morally,  than 
they  have  acted  before. 

11 

Working  men  have  tried  to  free  themselves  by  means 
of  violence,  of  riots,  and  they  have  not  attained  their  end. 
They  have  tried  to  free  themselves  by  socialistic  methods 
through  unions,  strikes,  demonstrations,  elections  to  par- 
liaments, but  all  this  at  best  only  for  a  time  alleviates 
the  convict  labour  of  the  slaves,  and  not  only  does  not 
free  them,  but  even  confirms  the  slavery. 

The  working  men  have  tried,  each  one  separately,  to 
free  themselves  by  supporting  ^he  illegality  of  the  owner- 
ship of  land,  which  they  themselves  condemn,  and  if  the 
condition  of  a  few,  and  that,  too,  not  always  and  but  for  a 
brief  time,  is  improved  by  such  a  participation  in  an  evil 
thing,  the  condition  of  ail  only  gets  worse  from  it.  This 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  w^hat  permanently  improves  the 
condition  of  men  (not  of  one  man,  but  of  a  society  of 
men)  is  the  activity  which  is  in  conformity  with  the  rule 
that  we  should  do  unto  others  as  we  wish  that  others 
should  do  unto  us.  But  all  the  three  means  which  so 
far  have  been  employed  by  the  working  men  have  not 
been  in  conformity  with  tlie  rule  about  doing  unto  others 
as  we  wish  that  others  should  do  unto  us. 

The  means  of  the  riots,  that  is,  of  the  employment  of 
violence  against  men  who  consider  the  land  which  they 
have  received  as  an  inheritance  or  have  purchased  with 
their  savings  to  be  their  property,  is  inconsistent  with  the 


TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE  153 

rule  about  doing  unto  others  as  we  wish  that  others 
should  do  unto  us,  because  not  one  man  who  takes  part 
in  the  riots  would  like  to  have  taken  from  him  what  he 
considers  to  be  his  own,  the  more  so,  since  such  a  seizure 
is  generally  accompanied  by  cruel  acts  of  violence. 

Not  less  inconsistent  with  the  rule  about  doiug  unto 
others  as  we  wish  that  others  should  do  unto  us  is  the 
whole  socialistic  acti\^ty.  It  is  inconsistent  with  this 
rule,  in  the  first  place,  because,  by  putting  at  its  basis 
class  strife,  it  provokes  in  the  working  men  such  hostile 
feelings  toward  the  masters  and  the  non-workers  in  gen- 
eral, as  on  the  part  of  the  masters  can  in  no  way  be 
desirable  for  the  working  men.  It  is  inconsistent  with 
this  rule  for  this  reason,  also,  that  in  the  strikes  the  work- 
ing men  are  very  frequently,  for  the  success  of  their  under- 
taking, brought  to  the  necessity  of  using  violence  against 
those  working  men,  of  their  own  nation  or  foreigners,  who 
wish  to  take  their  places. 

Similarly  inconsistent  with  the  rule  about  doing  unto 
others  what  we  wish  that  others  should  do  unto  us,  and 
even  outright  immoral,  is  the  doctrine  which  promises  to 
the  working  men  the  transference  of  all  the  implements  of 
labour,  of  the  factories  and  works,  into  their  full  posses- 
sion. Every  factory  is  the  product  of  the  labour,  not 
only  of  many  working  men  of  the  present,  those  who  have 
built  the  factory  and  have  prepared  the  material  for  its 
construction,  and  then  of  the  men  since  its  construction, 
but  also  of  a  vast  number  of  mental  and  manual  working 
men  of  former  generations,  without  whose  work  no  factory 
could  exist.  There  is  absolutely  no  possibility  of  figuring 
out  the  part  of  all  men  in  the  working  of  a  factory,  and 
so,  according  to  the  doctrine  of  the  socialists  themselves, 
every  factory,  like  the  land,  is  the  common  possession  of 
the  whole  people,  with  this  one  difference,  that  the  owner- 
sliip  of  land  can  be  abolished  at  once,  without  waiting  for 
the  socialization  of  all  the  implements  of  labour;  but  a 


154  TO   THE    WORKING    PEOPLE 

factory  can  become  the  legal  possession  of  the  people 
only  when  the  unrealizable  fancy  of  the  socialists  shall  be 
achieved,  —  the  socialization  of  all,  literally  all,  the  imple- 
ments of  labour,  —  and  not  as  is  proposed  by  the  majority 
of  working  socialists,  when  they  shall  have  seized  the 
factories  of  their  masters  and  shall  have  made  them  their 
own.  A  master  has  no  right  whatever  to  own  a  factory, 
but  just  as  little  right  have  the  working  men  to  any  fac- 
tory whatever,  so  long  as  the  unreahzable  socialization  of 
the  implements  of  labour  is  not  an  accomplished  fact. 

For  this  reason  I  say  that  the  doctrine  which  promises 
to  the  working  men  the  seizure  of  those  factories  in  which 
they  work,  previous  to  the  socialization  of  all  the  imple- 
ments of  labour,  as  is  generally  proposed,  is  not  only  a 
doctrine  which  is  contrary  to  the  golden  rule  of  doing 
unto  others  as  we  would  that  others  should  do  unto  us, 
but  even  downright  immoral. 

Similarly  inconsistent  with  the  rule  about  doing  unto 
others  as  we  would  that  others  should  do  unto  us  is  the 
working  men's  support  of  the  ownership  of  land,  be  it  by 
means  of  violence  in  the  form  of  soldiers,  or  in  the  form 
of  labourers  or  tenants  on  the  laud.  Such  a  support  of 
the  ownership  of  land  is  inconsistent,  because,  if  such 
acts  for  a  time  improve  the  condition  of  those  persons 
who  perform  them,  they  certainly  make  the  condition  of 
other  working  men  worse. 

Thus  all  the  means  which  have  heretofore  been  used 
by  the  working  men  for  the  purpose  of  their  liberation, 
such  as  direct  violence  and  the  socialistic  activity,  as  well 
as  the  acts  of  separate  individuals  who  for  the  sake  of 
their  advantage  maintain  the  illegality  of  the  ownership 
of  land,  have  not  attained  their  purpose,  because  they 
have  all  been  inconsistent  with  the  rule  of  moralit}'  about 
doing  unto  others  as  we  would  that  others  should  do 
unto  us. 

What  will  free  the  working  men  from  their  slavery  is 


TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE  155 

not  even  an  activity,  but  the  mere  abstinence  from  sin, 
because  such  abstinence  is  just  and  moral,  that  is,  in 
conformity  with  God's  will. 

12 

"But  want!"  I  shall  be  told.     No  matter  how  con- 
vinced a  man  may  be  of  the  illegality  of  the  ownership 
of  land,  it  is  hard  for  him,  if  he  is  a  soldier,  to  keep  from 
going  whither    he   is   sent,  and   from    working    for    the 
proprietors,  if  this  work  may  give  milk  for  his  starving 
children.     Or  how  can  a  peasant  abstain  from  renting  the 
proprietor's  land,  when  he  has  but  half  a  desyatina  to 
each  soul  and  knows  that  he  cannot  support  his  family 
on  the  laud  which  he  owns  ?     It  is  true,  this  is  very  hard, 
but  the  same  difficulty  is  met  with  in  refraining  from  any 
bad  thing.     And  yet  men  for  the  most  part  abstain  from 
anything  bad.     Here  the  abstinence  is  less  difficult  than 
in  the  majority  of  bad  acts,  but  the  harm  from  the  bad 
act  —  the  participation  in  the  seizure  of  land  —  is  more 
obvious  than  in  many  bad  acts  from  which  people  refrain. 
I  am  not  speaking  of  the  refusal  to  participate  in  the  army, 
when  the  troops  are  sent  out  against  the  peasants.     It  is 
true,  for  such  a  refusal  it  takes  more  than  ordinary  courage 
and  a  readiness  to  sacrifice  oneself,  and  so  not  everybody 
is  able  to  do  so,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  cases  when 
this  refusal  is  to  be  apphed  are  rarely  met  with.     But  it 
takes  much  less  effort  and  sacrifice  not  to  work  on  the 
proprietors'  lands  and  not  to  rent  them.     If  all  working 
men  fully  comprehended  that  working  for  the  proprietors 
and  renting  their  lands  are  bad,  there  would  be  fewer  and 
fewer   people  ready   to  work  on   the    proprietors'    lands 
and  to  rent  them.     MilUons  of  people  live  without  having 
any  need  of  the  proprietors'  lands,  busying  themselves  at 
home  with  some  trade  or  attending  to  all  kinds  of  indus- 
tries away  from  home.     Nor  do  those  hundreds  of  thou- 


156  TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE 

sands  and  millions  of  peasants  feel  any  need  of  the 
proprietors'  lands,  who,  in  spite  of  the  whole  difficulty  of 
this  matter,  leave  their  old  places  and  go  to  new  places, 
where  they  get  all  the  land  they  wish  and  where  they  for 
the  most  part  do  not  suffer,  but  even  grow  rich,  soon  for- 
getting the  want  which  drove  them  out.  Even  those 
peasants  and  good  farmers  live  without  working  for  the 
proprietors  or  renting  their  lands,  who,  though  having  but 
little  laud  to  till,  live  abstemiously  and  work  their  land 
well  and  so  are  not  in  need  of  any  work  for  the  proprietors 
or  of  renting  their  lands.  Other  thousands  live  without 
haviug  any  need  of  working  on  the  proprietors'  lands  and 
of  renting  them,  —  the  men  who  live  a  Christian  life, 
that  is,  living,  not  each  for  himself,  but  aiding'one  another, 
as  live  in  Eussia  many  Christian  Communes,  of  whom  the 
Dukhobors  are  especially  known  to  me. 

There  can  be  want  only  in  a  society  of  men  who  live 
according  to  the  animal  law  of  struggling  against  one 
another,  but  among  Christian  societies  there  ought  to 
be  no  want.  As  soon  as  men  divide  among  themselves 
what  they  have,  everybody  always  has  what  he  needs,  and 
much  is  still  left.  When  the  people  who  heard  Christ's 
sermon  grew  faint  with  hunger,  Christ,  upon  learning  that 
some  of  them  had  provisions,  commanded  that  all  should 
sit  down  in  a  circle  and  that  those  who  had  the  provisions 
should  give  them  to  their  neighbours  on  one  side,  in  order 
that  the  neighbours,  having  appeased  their  hunger,  might 
hand  them  to  those  farther  away.  When  the  whole  circle 
was  made,  all  had  their  hunger  appeased,  and  much  was 
still  left  over. 

Even  so  in  the  society  of  men  who  act  similarly  there 
can  be  no  want,  and  such  people  do  not  need  to  work  for 
the  proprietors  or  rent  their  lands.  Thus  want  cannot 
always  be  a  sufficient  reason  for  doing  what  is  harmful 
to  one's  brothers. 

If  the  working  people  now  go  and  work  for  the  pro- 


TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE  157 

prietors  and  rent  their  lands,  they  do  so  only  because  not 
all  of  them  have  come  to  understand  the  sinfulness  of 
their  acts  or  the  whole  evil  which  they  are  doing  to  their 
brothers  and  to  themselves  by  it.  The  more  there  shall 
be  such  men  and  the  more  clearly  they  shall  understand 
the  significance  of  their  participation  in  the  ownership  of 
land,  the  more  and  more  will  the  power  of  the  non- 
workers  over  the  workers  destroy  itself  of  its  own  accord. 

13 

The  only  sure,  indubitable  means  for  improving  the 
condition  of  tbe  working  men,  which,  at  the  same  time, 
is  consistent  with  God's  will,  consists  in  the  emancipation 
of  the  land  from  its  seizure  by  the  proprietors.  This  eman- 
cipation of  the  land  is  attained,  not  only  through  the  work- 
ing men's  refusal  to  take  part  in  the  army,  when  the  army 
is  directed  against  the  working  people,  but  also  by 
abstaining  from  working  on  the  proprietors'  lands  and 
from  renting  them.  But  it  is  not  enough  for  you,  the 
working  men,  to  know  that  for  your  good  you  need 
the  liberation  of  the  land  from  its  seizure  by  the  proprie- 
tors, and  that  this  liberation  is  attained  through  your  re- 
fraining from  committing  acts  of  violence  against  your 
brothers  and  from  working  on  the  lands  of  the  proprietors 
and  renting  them  ;  you  must  also  know  in  advance  how 
to  manage  the  land  when  it  shall  be  freed  from  seizure 
by  the  proprietors,  how  to  distribute  it  among  the 
workers. 

The  majority  of  you  generally  think  that  all  that  is 
necessary  is  to  take  the  land  away  from  the  non-workers, 
and  all  will  be  well.  But  that  is  not  so.  It  is  easy  to 
say  :  "  Take  the  land  away  from  the  non-workers  and  give 
it  to  those  who  work  it."  But  how  is  this  to  be  done, 
without  violating  justice  and  without  giving  the  rich 
again  a  chance  to  accumulate  great  extents  of  territory  and 


158  TO    THE    WORKING   PEOPLE 

thus  again  to  rule  over  the  workers  ?  To  leave  it,  as 
some  of  you  think,  to  each  individual  worker  or  society 
to  mow  or  plough  wherever  it  be,  as  was  done  anciently 
and  is  even  now  done  among  the  Cossacks,  is  possible 
only  where  there  are  few  people  and  there  is  much  land 
and  the  land  is  all  of  one  quality.  But  where  there  are 
more  people  than  the  land  can  support,  and  the  land  is  of 
varying  quality,  it  is  necessary  tp  find  a  different  means 
for  the  exploitation  of  the  land.  To  divide  the  land 
according  to  the  number  of  men  ?  But  if  the  land  is 
divided  up  according  to  the  number  of  men,  it  will  also 
come  into  the  hands  of  those  who  do  not  know  how  to 
work  it,  and  these  non- workers  will  let  it  or  sell  it  to  the 
rich  purchasers,  and  there  will  again  appear  people  who 
own  large  tracts  of  land  and  who  do  not  till  it.  To  pro- 
hibit the  non-workers  to  sell  or  let  the  land  ?  But  then 
the  land  which  belongs  to  a  man  who  does  not  wish  or 
is  unable  to  work  it  will  lie  unused.  Besides,  in  dividing 
the  land  up  according  to  the  number  of  men,  how  is  it  to 
be  estimated  according  to  its  quality  ?  There  is  black 
loam,  fruitful  land,  and  there  is  sandy,  swampy,  sterile 
land ;  there  is  land  in  the  cities,  which  brings  as  much 
as  one  thousand  and  more  roubles  income  from  each 
desyatina,  and  there  is  land  in  the  backwoods,  which  does 
not  bring  any  income.  How,  then,  is  the  land  to  be 
distributed  in  such  a  way  that  there  may  not  again  arise 
the  ownership  of  land  by  those  who  do  not  work  it,  and 
that  there  may  not  be  such  as  are  improperly  treated,  that 
there  may  be  no  discussions,  quarrels,  civil  wars  ?  Men 
have  for  a  long  time  been  busy  discussing  and  solving 
these  questions.  For  the  correct  distribution  of  land 
among  the  workers  many  projects  have  been  proposed. 

To  say  nothing  of  the  so-called  communistic  projects 
of  the  construction  of  society,  in  which  the  land  is  re- 
garded a  common  possession  and  is  worked  by  all  men 
in  common,  I  am    acquainted    also    with  the   following 


TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE  159 

projects :  The  project  of  the  Euglishman,  William  Ogilvie, 
who  lived  in  the  eighteenth  century.  Ogilvie  says  that, 
since  every  man,  in  being  born  into  this  world,  in  con- 
sequence of  this  has  the  full  right  to  be  there  and  to 
live  by  what  it  produces,  this  right  cannot  be  hmited  by 
some  people's  regarding  great  tracts  of  land  as  their  prop- 
erty. For  this  reason  everybody  has  the  free  right  to 
own  such  a  plot  of  land  as  falls  to  his  share.  But  if  a 
person  owns  a  greater  extent  of  laud  than  falls  to  his 
share,  exploiting  those  plots  to  which  the  men  who  have 
a  right  to  them  make  no  claim,  the  owner  should  pay  the 
government  a  tax  for  this  possession. 

Another  Englishman,  Thomas  Spence,  a  few  years  later 
solved  the  land  question  by  recognizing  the  land  to  be 
the  property  of  parishes  which  could  dispose  of  it  as  they 
pleased.  In  this  way  the  private  possession  of  separate 
individuals  was  completely  abolished. 

As  a  beautiful  illustration  of  Spence's  view  concerning 
the  ownership  of  land  may  serve  the  account  of  what 
happened  with  him  in  the  year  1788  at  Haydou  Bridge, 
which  he  calls  a  "  Sylvan  Joke." 

"  While  I  was  in  the  wood  alone  by  myself  a-gathering 
of  nuts,  the  forester  popped  through  the  bushes  upon  me, 
and,  asking  me  what  I  did  there,  I  replied,  '  Gathering 
nuts.'  • 

" '  Gathering  nuts ! '  said  he,  '  and  dare  you  say  so  ? ' 

" '  Yes,'  said  I,  '  why  not  ?  Would  you  question  a 
monkey  or  a  squirrel  about  such  a  business  ?  And  am  I  to 
be  treated  as  an  inferior  to  one  of  these  creatures,  or  have  I 
a  less  right  ?  But  who  are  you,'  continued  I,  '  that  thus 
take  it  upon  you  to  interrupt  me  ? ' 

" '  I'll  let  you  know  that,'  said  he, '  when  I  lay  you  fast 
for  trespassing  here.' 

"'Indeed,'  answered  I,  'but  how  can  I  trespass  here 
where  no  man  ever  planted  or  cultivated ;  for  these  nuts 
are  the  spontaneous  gift  of  Nature,  ordained  alike  for  the 


160  TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE 

sustenance  of  man  and  beast  that  choose  to  gather  them, 
and,  therefore,  they  are  common.' 

" '  I  tell  you,'  said  he,  '  this  wood  is  not  common.  It 
belongs  to  the  Duke  of  Portland.' 

" '  Oh !  My  service  to  the  Duke  of  Portland,'  said  I. 
'  Nature  knows  no  more  of  him  than  of  me.  Therefore, 
as  in  Nature's  storehouse,  the  rule  is  "  first  come  first 
served,"  so  the  Duke  of  Portland  must  look  sharp  if  he 
wants  any  nuts.' " 

Spence,  in  conclusion,  declared  that  if  he  were  called 
upon  to  defend  a  country  in  which  he  durst  not  pluck  a 
nut,  he  would  throw  down  his  musket,  saying,  "  Let  such  as 
the  Duke  of  Portland,  who  claim  the  country,  fight  for  it !  " 

The  question  was  similarly  solved  by  the  famous 
author  of  Age  of  Reason  and  Rights  )f  Man,  Thomas 
Paine.  The  peculiarity  of  this  solution  consisted  in  this, 
that  in  recognizing  the  land  to  be  a  common  possession,  he 
proposed  to  abolish  the  right  of  the  ownership  of  land  by 
separate  individuals  in  that  the  possession  of  land  could 
not  be  passed  by  inheritance,  and  the  land,  which  was 
private  property,  at  the  death  of  the  owner  became  the 
possession  of  the  nation. 

It  was  Patrick  Edward  Dove,  in  our  century,  who  was 
the  next,  after  Thomas  Paine,  to  write  and  think  about 
this  subject.  Dove's  theory  consists  in  this,  that  the 
value  of  the  land  is  due  to  two  sources,  —  to  the  property 
of  the  land  itself  and  to  the  work  put  into  it.  The 
value  of  the  land  due  to  the  work  which  is  put  into  it 
may  be  the  possession  of  private  individuals ;  but  the 
value  of  the  laud  which  is  due  to  its  properties  is  the  pos- 
session of  the  whole  nation  and  so  can  never  belong  to 
separate  individuals,  as  it  is  now  supposed  to  be,  but  must 
be  the  common  possession  of  the  whole  nation.^ 

1  This  information  is  talcen  by  me  from  a  beautiful  English  book 
by  a  modern  writer,  John  Morrison  Davidson,  Precursors  of  Renry 
George.  — Author's  Note. 


TO    THE    WOKKING    PEOPLE  161 

Such  also  is  the  project  of  the  Japanese  Land  Eeclaim- 
ing  Society,  the  essence  of  which  consists  in  this,  that 
every  man  has  the  right  to  own  as  much  land  as  is  ap- 
portioned to  him,  on  condition  of  paying  for  it  an  estab- 
lished tax,  and  so  has  the  right  to  demand  the  allotment 
to  him  of  his  share  of  land  by  him  who  has  more  than 
the  share  allotted  to  each  person.  But  the  best,  justest, 
and  most  applicable  project,  in  my  opinion,  is  the  one  by 
Henry  George,  which  is  called  the  Single  Tax. 

14 

I  personally  consider  Henry  George's  project  the  just- 
est, most  beneficent,  and,  above  all,  most  easily  apphed 
of  all  tlie  projects  of  which  I  know  anything.  This  proj- 
ect may  on  a  small  scale  be  imagined  as  follows :  let  us 
imagine  that  in  some  locality  the  whole  land  belongs  to 
two  proprietors,  one,  very  rich,  w^ho  lives  abroad,  and  the 
other,  who  is  not  well  off  and  who  hves  and  farms  at 
home,  and  to  a  hundred  peasants,  who  own  small  tracts. 
Besides,  this  locality  is  inhabited  by  a  few  dozen  landless 
men,  who  serve  and  live  in  rented  houses,  —  artisans, 
traders,  officials.  Let  us  assume  that  all  the  inhabitants 
of  this  locality,  having  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
whole  land  is  a  common  possession,  have  decided  in  con- 
formity with  this  conviction  to  manage  the  land. 

What  shall  they  do  ? 

It  is  impossible  to  take  the  land  away  from  those  who 
own  it  and  to  allow  anybody  to  use  the  land  he  likes, 
since  there  will  be  several  candidates  to  the  same  tract, 
and  there  will  be  endless  dissensions.  It  is  inconvenient 
for  all  to  unite  into  one  cooperative  society  and  to  plough, 
mow,  and  harvest  in  common,  and  then  to  divide  up, 
because  some  have  ploughs,  horses,  carts,  while  others  do 
not  have  them,  and,  besides,  some  of  the  inhabitants 
do  not  know  how  to   till  the  land,  and  have  not   the 


162  TO    THE    WORKING   PEOPLE 

strength  to  do  so.  So,  too,  it  is  very  difficult  to  divide 
the  land  according  to  the  number  of  persons  into  such 
holdings  as  by  their  quahty  would  be  equal  among  them- 
selves. If  for  this  the  whole  land  is  divided  up  into 
small  plots  of  various  quality,  so  that  each  should  get  a 
plot  of  the  best,  and  one  of  mediocre,  and  one  of  bad  land, 
and  one  of  field,  and  mowing,  and  woodland,  there  will 
be  too  many  such  tiny  plots. 

Besides,  such  a  division  is  dangerous,  because  those 
who  do  not  wish  to  work  or  who  are  in  great  need  will 
for  money  turn  over  their  land  to  the  rich,  and  large 
landed  proprietors  will  again  come  into  existence. 

And  so  the  inhabitants  of  the  locality  decide  to  leave 
the  land  in  the  hands  of  those  who  now  own  it,  but  oblige 
each  owner  to  pay  into  the  common  treasury  an  amount 
of  money  which  represents  the  income  which  (according 
to  the  valuation  of  the  land,  not  according  to  the  labour 
put  into  it,  but  according  to  its  quality  and  location)  the 
owners  derive  from  the  land  in  use  by  them,  and  this 
money  they  decide  to  divide  into  equal  parts.  But  since 
such  a  collection  of  money  from  all  the  owners  of  the 
land  and  its  subsequent  equal  distribution  among  the 
inhabitants  is  troublesome,  and  since,  besides,  all  the  in- 
habitants pay  out  money  for  common  needs,  —  schools, 
churches,  fire  departments,  shepherds,  mending  of  roads, 
and  so  forth,  and  such  money  for  public  purposes  is 
always  insufficient,  the  inhabitants  of  the  locality  decide, 
instead  of  collecting  the  income  from  the  land  and  dis- 
tributing it  to  all  and  again  collecting  a  part  of  it  for 
taxes,  to  collect  and  use  the  whole  income  from  the  land 
on  common  necessities.  Having  established  themselves  in 
this  manner,  the  inhabitants  of  the  locality  demand  from 
the  proprietors  a  fixed  payment  for  the  land  in  their  pos- 
session, as  also  from  the  peasants  who  own  small  hold- 
ings ;  but  nothing  is  demanded  from  the  few  dozen  men 
who  do  not  own  any  land,  they  being  permitted  to  use 


TO    THE    WOKKING   PEOPLE  163 

gratis  all  that  which  is  supported  from  the  income  on 
the  land. 

This  arrangement  has  the  effect  of  making  it  unprofit- 
able for  the  proprietor  who  does  not  hve  in  the  country, 
and  who  produces  little  on  his  land,  under  the  land  tax, 
to  continue  holding  his  land,  and  he  gives  it  up.  But  the 
other  proprietor,  who  is  a  good  farmer,  gives  up  only  a 
part  of  his  laud,  and  retains  only  that  part  of  it  on  which 
he  can  produce  more  than  what  is  demanded  of  him  for 
the  land  cultivated  by  him. 

But  those  of  the  peasants  who  own  small  tracts,  and 
who  have  many  workers,  but  Httle  land,  as  also  some  who 
have  no  land,  but  wish  to  support  themselves  by  means 
of  work  on  the  land,  take  up  the  land  which  is  given  up 
by  the  proprietors.  Thus,  with  such  a  solution,  all  the 
inhabitants  of  this  locality  find  it  possible  to  live  on  the 
land  and  to  support  themselves  from  it,  and  the  whole 
land  passes  over  into  the  hands  or  remains  in  the  hands 
of  those  who  like  to  till  it  and  are  able  to  produce  much 
on  it.  But  the  public  institutions  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  locality  improve,  since  more  money  is  obtained  for 
public  needs  than  before,  and,  above  all  else,  all  this 
transference  of  landed  property  takes  place  without  any 
disputes,  quarrels,  interference,  or  violence,  but  by  the 
voluntary  abandonment  of  the  land  by  those  who  do  not 
know  how  to  cultivate  it  profitably. 

Such  is  Henry  George's  project  in  its  apphcation  to  the 
separate  state  or  even  to  all  humanity.  This  project  is 
just  and  beneficent,  and,  above  all,  easily  applied  every- 
where, in  aU  societies,  no  matter  what  order  of  agriculture 
may  be  established  there. 

For  tliis  reason  I  personally  consider  this  project  to  be 
the  best  of  all  those  in  existence.  But  this  is  my  personal 
opinion,  which  may  be  faulty.  But  you,  the  working 
men,  vdll,  when  the  time  shall  come  to  attend  to  the  land, 
discuss  for  yourselves  these  and  all  other  projects,  and 


164  TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE 

will  choose  the  one  which  you  will  consider  the  best,  or 
you  will  yourselves  discover  a  juster  or  more  applicable 
one.  The  reason  I  have  explained  these  projects  more  in 
detail  is,  that  you,  working  men,  understanding  on  the 
one  hand  the  whole  injustice  of  the  ownership  of  land, 
and,  on  the  other,  the  whole  difficulty  and  complexity  of  a 
just  distribution  of  the  land,  may  not  fall  into  those  errors 
of  a  thoughtless  distribution  of  the  land,  which  would 
make  your  condition,  in  consequence  of  the  struggle  for 
the  land  by  separate  individuals  and  of  land  seizures  in 
the  new  order,  worse  than  what  it  is  at  present. 

15 

I  shall  briefly  repeat  the  essence  of  what  I  wanted  to 
say  to  you.  The  essence  of  what  I  wanted  to  say  to  you 
is  this,  that  I  advise  you,  the  working  men,  in  the  first 
place,  to  understand  clearly  what  it  is  you  need,  and  not 
to  labour  to  obtain  what  is  absolutely  unnecessary  for 
you ;  you  need  but  this  one  thing,  —  free  land,  on  which 
you  may  be  able  to  live  and  support  yourselves. 

In  the  second  place,  I  advise  you  to  understand  clearly 
in  what  way  you  may  be  able  to  obtain  the  land  you 
need.  You  can  obtain  the  land,  not  through  riots,  from 
which  God  save  you,  not  through  demonstrations,  nor 
strikes,  nor  socialistic  deputies  in  parliaments,  but  only 
through  non-participation  in  what  you  yourselves  consider 
to  be  bad,  that  is,  by  not  supporting  the  illegality  of  the 
ownership  of  land,  either  by  means  of  violence  exerted 
by  the  army,  or  by  working  on  the  proprietors'  lauds  and 
renting  them. 

In  the  third  place,  I  advise  you  to  consider  in  advance 
how  you  will  distribute  the  land  when  it  becomes  free. 

For  you  to  be  able  correctly  to  consider  this,  you  must 
not  think  that  the  land  wliich  will  be  abandoned  by  the 
proprietors  will  become  your  property,  but  must  under- 


TO    THE    WORKING   PEOPLE  165 

stand  that,  for  the  use  of  the  land  to  be  regularly  and 
without  bias  apportioned  among  all  men,  the  right  to  own 
land,  though  it  be  but  one  square  rod,  should  not  be 
acknowledged  in  the  case  of  any  one.  Only  by  recogniz- 
ing the  laud  as  just  such  au  article  of  common  possession 
as  the  sun  and  air  will  you  be  able,  without  bias  and 
justly,  to  establish  the  ownership  of  land  among  all 
men,  according  to  any  of  the  existing  projects  or  accord- 
ing to  some  new  project  composed  or  chosen  by  you  in 
common. 

In  the  fourth  place,  and  this  is  most  important,  I 
advise  you,  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  everything  you 
need,  to  direct  your  forces,  not  to  a  struggle  with  the  rul- 
ing classes  by  means  of  revolts,  revolutions,  or  socialistic 
propaganda,  but  only  to  yourselves,  to  how  you  may  live 
better. 

People  fare  badly  only  because  they  themselves  live 
badly.  And  there  is  no  more  injurious  thought  for 
people  than  that  the  causes  of  the  wretchedness  of  their 
position  is  not  in  themselves,  but  in  external  conditions. 
A  man  or  a  society  of  men  need  but  imagine  that  the  evil 
experienced  by  them  is  due  to  external  conditions  and  to 
direct  their  attention  and  efforts  to  the  change  of  these 
external  conditions,  and  the  evil  will  be  increased.  But 
a  man  or  a  society  of  men  need  but  sincerely  direct  their 
attention  to  themselves,  and  in  themselves  and  their  lives 
look  for  the  causes  of  that  evil  from  which  they  suffer, 
in  order  that  these  causes  may  be  at  once  found  and 
destroyed. 

"  Seek  ye  the  kingdom  of  God  and  His  righteousness, 
and  all  these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you."  This  is 
the  fundamental  law  of  human  life.  If  you  live  badly, 
contrary  to  God's  law,  no  efforts  of  yours  will  procure  for 
you  the  well-being  for  which  you  are  seeking.  If  you 
live  well,  morally  well,  in  accordance  with  God's  will  and 
making  no  efforts  for  the  attainment  of  this  well-being,  it 


166  TO    THE    WORKING   PEOPLE 

will  naturally  establish  itself  among  you,  and  at  that  in 
a  way  you  have  never  thought  of. 

It  seems  so  natural  and  simple  to  push  against  the 
door  behind  which  is  that  which  we  need,  and  the  more 
natural,  since  back  of  us  stands  a  crowd  that  is  pressing 
against  us  and  jamming  us  against  the  door.  However, 
the  more  stubbornly  we  press  against  the  door  behind 
which  is  that  which  we  consider  a  good,  the  less  hope 
there  is  to  penetrate  through  it.  The  door  opens  toward 
us. 

Thus,  to  obtain  the  good,  a  man  must  not  trouble  him- 
self about  the  change  of  external  conditions,  but  only 
about  changing  himself :  he  must  stop  doing  what  is  evil, 
if  he  is  doing  it,  and  must  begin  to  do  good,  if  he  is  not 
doing  it.  All  the  doors  which  lead  men  to  the  true  good 
open  only  outwardly. 

We  say,  the  working  people  are  enslaved  by  the  gov- 
ernment, by  the  rich ;  but  who  are  these  men  who  form 
the  government  and  the  wealthy  classes  ?  Are  they 
heroes,  each  of  whom  can  vanquish  tens  and  hundreds  of 
working  people  ?  Or  are  there  very  many  of  them,  while 
there  are  but  few  working  men  ?  Or  are  these  men,  the 
rulers  and  the  wealthy,  the  only  ones  who  know  how  to 
make  everything  necessary  and  to  produce  everything  the 
people  live  by  ?  Neither  the  one,  nor  the  other,  nor 
the  third.  These  men  are  no  heroes,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, weakened,  helpless  people,  and  not  only  are  they 
not  numerous,  but  they  are  even  hundreds  of  times  fewer 
than  the  working  people.  And  everything  which  men 
live  by  is  produced  not  by  them,  but  by  the  working 
men,  while  they  are  both  unable  and  unwilling  to  do 
anything,  and  only  devour  what  the  working  men  pro- 
duce. Why,  then,  does  this  small  band  of  feeble,  idle 
men,  who  cannot  and  will  not  do  anything,  rule  over 
milHons  of  working  men  ?  There  is  but  one  answer  to 
this :    it  is  due  to   the  fact  that  the  working  men  are 


TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE  167 

in  their  life  guided  by  the  same  rules  and  laws  by  which 
their  oppressors  are  guided.  If  the  working  men  work 
and  do  not  exploit  the  labours  of  the  poor  and  the  feeble 
to  such  an  extent  as  do  the  non-working  rulers  and  the 
wealthy,  this  is  not  due  to  the  fact  that  they  consider  this 
bad,  but  because  they  cannot  do  it  so  well  as  the  rulers 
and  the  rich,  who  are  more  agile  and  cunning  than  the 
rest.  The  rulers  and  the  rich  rule  the  working  people 
only  because  the  working  people  wish  in  precisely  the 
same  manner  to  rule  their  own  fellows,  the  working  men. 
For  this  same  reason  —  the  equal  comprehension  of  life  — 
the  working  men  are  unable  successfully  to  rebel  against 
their  oppressors.  No  matter  how  hard  it  is  for  the  work- 
ing man  to  be  oppressed  by  the  rulers  and  the  rich,  he 
knows  in  his  heart  that  he  himself  would  act  similarly 
toward  his  brothers,  or  that  in  a  small  way  he  is  acting 
thus  toward  them.  The  working  people  have  fettered 
themselves  by  their  desire  to  enslave  one  another,  and  so 
it  is  easy  for  the  shrewd  people  who  have  already  got 
them  in  their  power  to  enslave  them.  If  the  working 
people  did  not  consist  of  enslavers  exactly  like  the  rulers 
and  the  rich,  who  are  concerned  only  about  exploiting 
their  neighbour's  want  for  the  purpose  of  establishing  their 
own  well-being,  but  lived  in  a  brotherly  way,  thinking  of 
one  another  and  mutually  offering  aid,  no  one  would  be 
able  to  enslave  them.  And  so,  to  free  themselves  from 
the  oppression  in  which  they  are  held  by  the  rulers 
and  the  rich,  the  working  people  have  but  one  means, — 
to  free  themselves  from  those  principles  by  which  they 
are  guided  in  their  lives,  that  is,  to  stop  serving  mammon 
and  begin  serving  God. 

The  pretended  friends  of  the  people  tell  you,  and  you 
yourselves  —  at  least  a  few  of  you  —  say  to  yourselves, 
that  the  present  order  must  be  changed,  that  you  must 
take  possession  of  the  implements  of  labour  and  of  the 
land,  and  that  you  must  overthrow  the  present  govern- 


168  TO   THE   WORKING   PEOPLE 

ment  and  establish  a  new  one.    And  you  believe  this,  and 
you  hope  and   work  for  the  attainment  of   these  ends. 
But  let  us  assume  that  you  will  attain  what  you  wish, 
that  you  will  overthrow  the  present  government  and  will 
establish  a  new  government,  and  that  you  will  take  pos- 
session of  all  the  factories,  works,  and  the  land.     "Why 
do  you  assume  that  the  people  who  will  form  the  new 
government  will  be  guided  by  new  principles   different 
from  those  by  which  the  present  men  are  guided  ?     And 
if  they   shall   be  guided  by   the    same   principles,   they 
will,  like  those  of  the  present,  not  only  retain,  but  also 
strengthen    their   power,   and    will    for   their   advantage 
extract  as  much  from  their  power  as  they  can.     Why  do 
you  assume  that  the  people  who  will  have  charge  of  the 
factories,  of  the  land  (all  men  cannot  manage  all  institu- 
tions), being  people  with  just  such  views  as  the  men  of 
the  present,  will  not  find,  as  at  present,  means  for  seiz- 
ing the  lion  share,  leaving  to  the  humble  and  meek  only 
what  is  indispensable.     I  shall  be  told:  "It  will  be  so 
arranged  that  it  will  be  impossible  to  do  so."     But  see 
how  well  all  was  arranged  by  God  Himself,  or  by  Nature, 
—  the  ownership  of  the  earth  by  all  who  are  born  and 
live  upon  it,  —  and  yet  people  have  been  cunning  enough 
to  violate  this  divine  arrangement.     And  so  thousands  of 
means  for  distorting  the  human  order  will  always  be  dis- 
covered by  those  men  who  in  their  lives  are  guided  by 
nothing  but  care  for  their  personal  well-being.     No  modi- 
fications of  the  external  order  will  ever  improve  or  ever 
can  improve  the  condition  of  men.     And  so  my  fourth 
and  most  important  advice  to  you,  working  men,  consists 
in   this,   that,  without    condemning    other   people,   your 
oppressors,  you  should  direct  your  attention  to  yourselves 
and  change  your  inner  lives. 

If  you  think  that  it  is  lawful  and  useful  forcibly  to 
take  away  and  appropriate  to  yourselves  what  has  been 
taken  from  you  and  is  retained  by  force ;  or,  if  you  think 


TO    THE    WORKING    PEOPLE  169 

that,  following  the  teaching  of  erring  men,  it  is  lawful 
and  useful  to  take  part  in  the  struggle  of  the  classes  and 
to  strive  after  the  acquisition  of  the  implements  of  labour 
created  by  others ;  if  you  think  that,  serving  as  soldiers, 
you  are  obliged  to  obey  the  authorities,  who  compel  you 
to  offer  violence  to  your  brothers  and  kill  them,  and  not 
to  obey  God,  who  commands  you  not  to  do  so ;  or  if  you 
think  that,  in  maintaining  the  lawlessness  of  the  owner- 
ship of  land  by  your  work  on  the  lands  of  the  proprietors 
and  by  renting  them,  you  are  not  doing  anything  wrong, — 
your  condition  will  become  worse  and  worse,  and  you  will 
for  ever  remain  slaves. 

But  if  you  come  to  understand  that  for  your  true  good 
you  need  only  live  a  brotherly  life  according  to  God's 
law,  doing  unto  others  what  you  wish  should  be  done  to 
you,  —  then  in  the  measure  in  which  you  will  understand 
this  and,  understanding  this,  will  execute  it,  will  also 
that  good  be  realized  which  you  wish  for,  and  your  sla- 
very be  destroyed.  "  Ye  shall  know  the  truth,  and  the 
truth  shall  make  you  free." 

Ydsnaya  Polydna,  Septemher,  1902. 


THE   FIRST   DISTILLER 

1886 


THE    FIRST    DISTILLER 

Or,  How  the  Devil  Earned  a  Crust  of  Bread ' 


ACT  L 

Scene  I. 


Peasant  {ploughing,  looking  up).  It  is  nooD  and  time 
to  unhitch.  Whoa !  Come  now !  You  are  tired,  my 
dear.  I'll  make  one  more  turn  over  there,  will  go  down 
the  last  furrow,  —  and  then  to  dinner.  It  was  lucky  I 
thought  of  taking  a  crust  of  bread  with  me.  I  won't  go 
home.  I'll  have  a  bite  near  the  well,  and  will  take  a  nap, 
while  the  dun  horse  will  nibble  at  some  grass,  —  and  then, 
back  to  work.     God  willing,  I'll  get  through  early. 

Scene  II. 

Little  Devil  (running  out  from  behind  a  hush).  What 
a  good  fellow !  He  is  mentioning  God  all  the  time. 
Wait  awhile,  and  you  wdl  mention  the  devil.  I'll  carry 
off  his  crust  of  bread.  He'll  find  it  gone  and  will  be  look- 
ing for  it.  He'll  be  hungry,  and  will  swear,  and  will 
mention  the  devil.  (Takes  the  crtist,goes  with  it  behind  a 
bush,  and  waits  to  see  what  the  peasant  will  do.) 

1  Dramatized  version  of  the  legend  in  Vol.  XVII.,  p.  439. 

171 


172  THE    FIRST    DISTILLER 

Peasant  {loosening  the  hame  lugs).  The  Lord  be 
blessed  !  (Leads  out  the  horse  and  lets  it  hose ;  goes  to  his 
caftan.)  I  am  awfully  hungry !  The  old  woman  gave 
me  a  big  chunk,  and  I'm  sure  I'll  eat  it  all.  {Goes  u;p  to 
the  caftan.)  Gone !  I  must  have  covered  it  with  my 
caftan.  (Lifts  itp  his  caftan.)  Not  here,  either.  This 
is  remarkable  !     (Shakes  his  caftan.) 

Little  Devil  (behind  the  lush).  Look  for  it,  look  for 
it !     Here  it  is  !     (Sits  down  on  it.) 

Peasant  (lifts  up  the  plough  heam,  and  shakes  the  caf- 
tan). Wonderful,  truly  wonderful.  There  was  nobody 
here,  and  the  crust  is  gone.  If  the  birds  had  pecked  it, 
there  would  be  crumbs,  but  there  are  none.  Nobody  was 
here,  and  yet  somebody  carried  it  off. 

Little  Devil  (rises  and  looks  around).  He  will  men- 
tion me  this  very  minute. 

Peasant.  Well,  it  can't  be  helped.  I  sha'n't  starve 
to  death.     Let  him  have  it.     May  he  eat  it  to  his  health  ! 

Little  Devil  (spitting  out).  Accursed  peasant!  He 
ought  to  be  swearing,  and  he  says,  "  To  his  health  ! "  I 
can't  do  anything  with  him.  (The  peasant  lays  himself 
down,  makes  the  sign  of  the  cross,  yawns,  and  falls  asleep.) 

Little  Devil  (comes  out  from  behind  the  bush).  Talk 
to  the  chief !  The  chief  keeps  saying,  "  You  do  not  bring 
me  enough  peasants  to  hell.  Look  there :  merchants, 
gentlemen,  and  all  other  kinds  come  here  every  day  and 
in  large  numbers,  but  there  are  but  few  peasants."  How 
shall  I  get  at  him  ?  I  do  not  know  how.  What  better 
could  I  have  done  ?  I  took  away  his  last  crust.  And 
still  he  did  not  swear.  I  do  not  know  what  to  do  now. 
I'll  go  and  report.     (Sinks  through  the  ground.) 


ACT  n. 

Hell 

In  the  main  seat  sits  the  Chief  Devil.  TJie  Devils'  Scribe 
sits  helow,  at  a  table,  with  writing  material.  Guards 
stand  at  each  side.  On  the  right  are  five  Little  Devils 
of  various  descriptions ;  on  the  left,  near  the  door,  is 
the  Doorkeeper ;  a  Dandyish  Devil  is  standing  in 
front  of  the  Chief 

Dandyish  Devil.  My  whole  booty  for  three  years 
amounts  to  220,005  men.  They  are  all  in  my  power 
now. 

Chief.  All  right,  thanks,  move  on  !  (Dandyish  Devil 
moves  to  the  right.) 

Chief  (to  Scribe).  I  am  tired.  How  much  business  is 
there  left  ?  From  whom  have  we  had  reports,  and  who 
is  still  to  be  heard  from  ? 

SCEIBE  (counts  on  his  fingers  and,  as  he  proceeds,  points 
to  the  Little  Devils  standing  on  the  right.  Every  time  he 
names  a  Little  Devil,  the  Little  Devil  bows).  I  have  a 
report  from  the  Nobihty  Devil,  —  he  took  in  altogether 
1,836.  From  the  Merchant  Devil  —  9,643.  From  the 
Court  Devil — 3,423.  From  the  Woman  Devil  we  have 
just  received  186,315  women  and  17,438  girls.  Two 
are  left :  the  Pettifogger  and  Peasant  Devils.  In  all 
220,005. 

Chief.     Well,  I  see,  we  shall  get  through  to-day.     (To 

Doorkeeper.)     Let    them    in  !     (Enter    Pettifogger    Devil, 

bowing  to  the  Chief.) 

17.3 


174  THE    FIKST    DISTILLER 

Chief.     Well,  how  is  your  business  ? 

Pettifogger  Devil  (laughing  all  the  time,  and  rubhing 
his  hands).  My  business  is  as  white  as  soot.  My  booty 
is  sucli  as  I  do  not  remember  since  the  creation  of  the 
world. 

Chief.     Well,  did  you  take  in  a  lot  ? 

Pettifogger  Devil.  It  is  not  so  much  a  question  of 
numbers.  Though  the  number  is  small,  —  in  all  1,350 
men,  —  they  are  all  fine  lads.  They  are  such  lads  that 
they  could  pass  for  devils.  They  themselves  trouble 
people  worse  than  devils.     I  taught  them  a  new  fashion. 

Chief.     What  new  fashion  ? 

Pettifogger  Devil.  It  is  like  this :  formerly  the 
pettifoggers  were  connected  with  the  judges,  and  used  to 
deceive  people.  Now  I  have  taught  them  to  get  along 
without  judges.  They  work  for  those  who  pay  them 
most.  And  they  work  in  such  a  way  that  they  start 
cases  where  there  is  nothing  to  do.  They  trouble  men 
much  better  than  do  the  devils. 

Chief.  I'll  see.  Move  on  !  {Pettifogger  Devil  passes 
to  the  right.) 

Chief  (to  Doorkeeper).     Let  in  the  last ! 

(Enter  Peasant  Devil  with  the  crust,  bowing  low.) 

Peasant  Devil.  I  can't  exist  any  longer,  —  give  me 
another  job ! 

Chief.  What  job  ?  You  are  talking  nonsense.  Get 
up  and  talk  sensibly.  Make  your  report,  and  tell  me  how 
many  peasants  you  have  gathered  in  this  week. 

Peasant  Devil  (weeping).     Not  one  ! 

Chief.  What?  Not  one?  How  so?  What  have 
you  been  doing  ?     Where  have  you  been  loafing  ? 

Peasant  Devil  (snivelling).  I  have  not  loafed ;  I  have 
worn  myself  out  working,  but  have  not  accomplished  any- 
thing.    Here  I  stole  the  last  crust  from  under  a  man's 


THE    FIRST    DISTILLER  175 

nose,  and  he  did  not  even  swear,  but  wished  me  to  eat  it 
to  my  health. 

Chief.  \\Tiat  ?  What  are  you  babbling  there  ?  Wipe 
your  nose  and  talk  sense,  for  I  can't  make  out  a  thing 
you  say. 

Peasant  Devil.  Well,  a  peasant  was  ploughing,  and 
I  knew  that  all  he  had  with  him  was  a  crust  of  bread 
and  nothing  else  to  eat.  I  stole  the  crust.  He  ought  to 
have  sworn,  but  what  did  he  do  ?  He  said :  "  Let  him 
who  took  it  eat  it  to  his  health."  I  have  brought  the 
crust  with  me,  —  here  it  is  ! 

Chief.     Well,  and  how  about  the  others  ? 

Peasant  Devil.  They  are  all  alike, —  I  did  not  get 
one. 

Chief.  How  dare  you  come  back  to  me  with  empty 
hands  ?  And  there  you  have  brought  a  stinking  crust 
with  you  ;  do  you  mean  to  make  fun  of  me  ?  Eh  ?  Do 
you  intend  to  eat  bread  in  hell  for  nothing  ?  The  others 
try  and  work  hard.  Now,  these  here  {pointing  to  the 
Devils)  have  brought  with  them  a  thoustmd  and  twenty 
thousand  apiece,  and  this  one  has  brought  as  high  as  two 
hundred  thousand.  And  you  come  back  empty-handed, 
and  bring  with  you  a  crust  or  something  like  it.  Tell  me 
no  fairy-tales !  You  loaf,  and  do  not  work.  That's  why 
they  get  away  from  you.  Wait,  friend,  —  I'll  teach 
you! 

Peasant  Devil.  Don't  have  me  punished,  but  let  me 
talk  !  These  devils  have  an  easy  time  of  it :  they  deal  with 
noblemen,  or  merchants,  or  women.  We  know  what  that 
means.  Show  a  nobleman  a  sable  cap  or  an  estate,  and 
straightway  you  have  him,  and  lead  him  whither  you  will. 
The  same  with  a  merchant.  Show  him  money  and  fire 
him  with  envy,  and  you  may  lead  him  as  by  a  halter,  — 
he  will  not  get  away.  And  so  it  is  with  women.  Dresses 
and  sweetmeats,  —  and  again  do  with  them  as  you  please. 
But  just  try  it  with  a  peasant.     He  works  from  morn- 


176  THE    FIRST    DISTILLER 

ing  until  night,  and  even  into  the  night,  and  does  not 
begin  anything  without  God,  —  so  how  will  you  get  in 
with  him  ?  Father,  free  me  from  the  peasants,  —  they 
have  worn  me  out !     I  have  even  angered  you. 

Chief.  You  lie,  good-for-nothing !  Don't  point  to 
others.  They  get  the  merchants,  and  noblemen,  and 
women,  because  they  know  how  to  treat  them,  —  they 
keep  inventing  new  things.  Now,  the  pettifogger  has 
turned  a  new  leaf.  Invent  something  yourself.  The 
idea  of  boasting  of  having  stolen  a  crust !  How  clever ! 
Throw  nets  over  them,  and  they  will  fall  into  one  of  them. 
But  you  have  been  loafing,  and  so  you  have  given  your 
peasants  a  chance  to  gather  strength.  They  do  not  even 
regret  the  loss  of  a  crust.  If  they  are  up  to  such  tricks, 
and  teach  them  to  their  women,  they  will  entirely  get 
away  from  us.  Think  out  something !  Stretch  yourself 
the  best  way  you  can  ! 

Peasant  Devil.  I  do  not  know  what  to  think  out. 
Eelieve  me.     I  can't  stand  it. 

Chief  {angrily).  You  can't  ?  Well,  do  you  want  me 
to  work  for  you  ? 

Peasant  Devil.     I  can't. 

Chief.  You  can't  ?  Just  wait.  Oh,  there  !  Bring  in 
rods,  and  wallop  him  !  {The  guards  seize  the  Devil  and 
Jlog  him.) 

Peasant  Devil.     Oh,  oh,  oh  ! 

Chief.     Have  you  thought  it  out  ? 

Peasant  Devil.     Oh  !     Oh !     I  can't  think  it  out. 

Chief.  Wallop  him !  {They  Jlog  him.)  Have  you 
thought  it  out  ? 

Peasant  Devil.     I  have,  I  have  ! 

Chief.     Well,  tell  me  what  you  have  thought  out. 

Peasant  Devil.  I  have  thought  out  something  by 
which  I  will  get  them  all  into  my  hands.  Just  let  me  hire 
out  as  a  farm-hand  with  the  peasant,  —  but  I  cannot  tell 
you  about  it  beforehand. 


THE    FIRST    DISTILLER  177 

Chief.  All  right.  Only  remember:  if  you  do  not 
earn  a  crust  in  three  years,  I'll  flay  you  ahve. 

Peasant  Devil.     In  three  years  they  will  all  be  mine. 

Chief.  All  right.  In  three  years  I'll  go  and  take  a 
look  myself. 


ACT  III. 

Granary.      Wagons  with  grain. 

Scene  I. 

Devil,  as  Fakm-hand  {filling  measures  with  grain 
from  the  wagon,  which  7neasures  Feasant  carries  away). 
Seven. 

Peasant.     How  many  chdtverts  ? 

Farm-hand  (looking  at  the  ma7'ks  on  the  door).  Twenty- 
six  ;  seventh  measure  on  the  twenty-seventh. 

Peasant.     It  won't  all  go  in,  —  it's  full  already. 

Farm-hand.     Spread  it  well. 

Peasant.     I  have  done  so.     (Carries  off  the  measure.) 

Scene  IT 

Faem-hand  (alone,  takes  off  his  cap,  displaying  his 
horns).  He  won't  come  out  soon,  so  I  will  straighten  my 
horns  a  little.  (Horns  straighten  up.)  I'll  take  off  my 
boots,  —  I  can't  do  so  when  he  is  around.  (Takes  his  feet 
out  of  his  hoots,  showing  his  hoofs.  Sits  down  on  the 
threshold.)  It's  going  on  the  third  year.  I  have  to  settle 
soon.  He  can't  store  away  all  the  grain.  I  must  teach 
him  the  last  trick.  Then  the  Chief  himself  may  come 
and  see.  There  will  be  something  to  show.  He  will  pay 
me  for  the  crust.     (Neighhour  comes  up.) 

178 


THE    FIRST    DISTILLER  179 

Scene  III, 
Farin-hand  hides  his  horns. 

Neighboue.     Good  morning ! 

Faem-hand.     Good  morning! 

Neighbour.     Where  is  your  master  ? 

Farm-hand.  He  has  gone  to  spread  the  grain  in  the 
grain  loft,  —  he  can't  get  it  all  in. 

Neighbour.  What  prosperity  your  master  has,  —  he 
has  even  no  place  to  store  it  all  in.  We  are  all  marvel- 
ling at  the  grain  your  master  has  raised  these  two  years. 
It  is  as  though  somebody  is  helping  him  out.  Last  year 
was  a  dry  year,  and  he  sowed  in  the  bog :  other  people 
did  not  get  anything,  and  you  had  your  granaries  full. 
This  year  it  rained  a  lot,  and  he  had  the  sense  to  sow  on 
the  uplands.  Other  people's  grain  has  all  rotted,  and  you 
have  more  than  you  want.  And  what  grain!  (Shakes 
it  in  his  palm  and  tries  it  between  his  teeth.) 

Scene  IV. 

Peasant  (returning  with  empty  measure).  Good  morn- 
ing, friend ! 

Neighbour.  Good  morning !  I  am  just  talking  with 
your  hand  about  how  you  guessed  where  to  sow.  All 
the  people  are  envying  you.  What  a  mass  of  grain  you 
have  garnered  !     You  won't  eat  it  up  in  ten  years. 

Peasant.  I  owe  it  to  Potap,  (Points  to  the  Farm-hand.) 
It  is  his  luck.  I  sent  him  out  last  year  to  plough,  and 
he  took  it  into  his  head  to  plough  in  the  swamp.  I 
scolded  him,  but  he  persuaded  me  to  sow  there.  So  we 
did,  and  it  came  out  for  the  best.  This  year  he  guessed 
it  again,  and  sowed  on  the  uplands. 

Neighbour.  Yes,  he  knows  exactly  what  kind  of  a 
year  it  is  going  to  be.     Yes,  you  have  a  lot  of  grain. 


180  THE    FIRST    DISTILLER 

{Silence.)  I  have  come  to  ask  you  for  an  eighth  of  rye. 
I  am  all  out  of  it,  —  I'll  give  it  back  to  you  next  summer. 

Peasant.     Why,  take  it 

Fakm-hand  {nudging  the  Peasant).  Don't  give  it  to 
him. 

Peasant.     Stop  talking !     Take  it ! 

Neighbouk.     I'll  just  run  down  for  a  bag. 

Fakm-hand  {aside).  He  won't  give  up  his  old  habit, 
—  he  gives.  He  does  not  obey  me  in  everything.  Just 
give  me  a  chance,  —  he  will  soon  stop  giving.  {Neighbour 
exit.) 

Scene  Y, 

Peasant  {sitting  down  on  the  threshold).  Why  should 
I  not  give  to  a  good  man  ? 

Farm-hand.  It's  easy  enough  to  give,  but  you  will 
not  get  it  back.  To  loan  is  the  same  as  throwing  down- 
hill, and  to  collect  the  debt  —  the  same  as  pulling  up-hill. 
Thus  old  men  say. 

Peasant,     Don't  worry,  —  there  is  grain  enough. 

Farm-hand.     What  of  it,  if  there  is  enough  ?     ■ 

Peasant.  There  is  not  only  enough  until  the  next 
crop,  but  even  for  two  years.     What  shall  I  do  with  it  ? 

Farm-hand.  What  shall  you  do  with  it?  Why,  I 
will  make  something  so  good  out  of  this  grain  that  you 
will  rejoice  your  whole  life. 

Peasant.     What  will  you  make  of  it  ? 

Farm-hand.  I  will  make  a  drink,  such  that,  if 
you  have  no  strength,  it  will  give  you  strength,  and 
if  you  want  to  eat,  it  will  fiU  you  up.  If  you  can't  fall 
asleep,  you  will  fall  asleep  at  once ;  if  you  are  sad,  it  will 
cheer  you  up.  If  you  have  lost  courage,  it  will  give  you 
courage.     That's  the  kind  of  a  drink  I  will  give  you. 

Peasant.     You  are  fibbing. 

Farm-hand.     Fibbing !     You  did  not  believe  me  even 


THE    FIRST    DISTILLER  181 

when  I  told  you  to  sow  grain,  at  first  in  the  swamp,  and 
later  on  the  uplands.  Now  you  know  it  was  right.  And 
you  will  know  so  about  the  drink. 

Peasaxt.     What  will  you  make  it  of  ? 

Farm-hand.     Why,  of  this  same  grain. 

Peasant.     Will  it  not  be  a  sin  ? 

Faem-hand.  I  declare,  a  sin !  Everything  is  given 
to  man  for  a  joy. 

Peasant.  Where  have  you,  Potap,  learned  so  much  ? 
As  I  look  at  you,  you  are  not  a  wise  man,  but  a  labourer. 
You  have  been  living  with  me  these  two  years,  and  have 
never  taken  off  your  clothes.  How  have  you  come  to  all 
this  wisdom  ? 

Farm-hand.     I  have  been  in  lots  of  places. 

Peasant.  So  you  say  that  this  drink  will  give  me 
strength  ? 

Farm-hand.  You  will  see,  —  everything  good  comes 
from  it. 

Peasant.     How  are  we  going  to  do  it  ? 

Farm-hand.  It  is  not  a  hard  matter,  if  you  know 
how.     All  we  need  is  a  kettle  and  two  iron  pots. 

Peasant.     And  is  it  pleasant  to  the  taste  ? 

Farm-hand.  As  sweet  as  honey.  Try  it  once,  and 
you  will  not  give  it  up  in  a  lifetime. 

Peasant.  Oh,  indeed !  I'U  go  to  my  neighbour,  he 
had  a  kettle.     I  must  try. 


ACT   IV. 

The  scene  represents  a  shed,  in  the  middle  of  which  a 
walled-up  kettle  stands  on  the  fire,  with  an  iron  pot 
and  faucet.     Peasant  and  farm-hand. 

Scene  I. 

Farm-hand  (holds  the  glass  under  the  faucet  and  drinks 
the  liquor.)     Well,  master,  it  is  done. 

Peasant  {squatting  and  looking  on).  That's  clever ! 
Water  comiag  from  the  dough.  Why  do  you  let  the 
water  off  first  ? 

Farm-hand.     This  is  not  water,  —  it  is  the  stuff. 

Peasant.  Wliy  is  it  so  light  ?  I  thought  it  would  be 
as  red  as  beer.     This  is  just  like  water. 

Farm-hand,     Just  smell  it ! 

Peasant  {smells).  Ugh,  how  strong !  Come  now, 
come  now,  let  me  taste  it  in  my  mouth.  {Tears  it  out 
of  his  hands.) 

Farm-hand.  Wait,  you'll  spill  it.  {Turns  the  faucet, 
drinks  himself,  and  clicks  his  tongue.)  It  is  done, — 
here,  drink  it. 

Peasant  {first  harely  tastes  it,  then  again  and  again, 
and  drinks  it  all.  Gives  him  the  glass).  Let  me  have 
some  more.  I  have  had  so  little,  I  cannot  make  out  the 
taste. 

Farm-hand  {laughs).  Well,  do  you  like  it  ?  {Fills 
the  glass.) 

Peasant  {drinking).     I  must  say,  it  is  fine !     I'll  call 

183 


THE    FIRST   DISTILLER  183 

the  old  woman.      Oh,   Marfa,   come   here !     It's   dona 
Are  you  coming  ? 

Scene  II. 
Wife  and  girl,  and  the  former. 

Wife.     What  makes  you  shout  so  ? 

Peasant.  Just  try  what  we  have  distilled.  {Gives 
her  the  glass.)     Smell  it :  what  fragrance  ! 

Wife  {smelling).     I  declare ! 

Peasant.     Drink  it ! 

Wife.     If  only  it  won't  hurt ! 

Peasant.     Drink,  silly  ! 

Wife  (drinking).     I  must  say,  it  is  good  ! 

Peasant  {a  little  tipsy).  I  should  say  it  is.  Wait  for 
what  is  coming.  Potap  says  that  it  makes  all  tired  feel- 
ings leave  the  body.  Young  people  grow  old,  —  I  mean, 
old  people  grow  young.  I  have  just  had  two  glasses,  and 
I  feel  good  in  my  bones.  (Strikes  an  attitude.)  You 
see  ?  Just  wait !  As  soon  as  we  shall  be  drinking  it 
every  day,  we  shall  grow  young  again  !  Well,  Mashenka  ! 
(Embraces  her.) 

Wife.  Come,  now!  It  has  made  you  lose  your 
senses. 

Peasant.  Indeed !  You  said  that  Potap  and  I  were 
wasting  the  grain,  and  see  what  we  have  invented.  Well, 
say,  is  it  good  ? 

Wife.  Why  should  it  not  be  good,  if  it  makes  old 
people  young  ?  How  cheerful  you  have  become  !  It  even 
cheers  me  up.     Fall  in  with  me  :  ee  (singing). 

Peasant.  That's  it.  We  shall  all  be  young  and 
happy. 

Wife.  I  must  call  in  mother-in-law,  for  she  is  scold- 
ing all  the  time  and  feeling  lonely.  We  must  change 
her,  too.     She  will  be  younger  and  kinder. 


184  THE    FIKST    DISTILLER 

Peasant  {drunh).  Call  mother,  call  her  in !  0 
Mashka,  run  and  call  grandmother,  and  tell  grandfather, 
too,  to  come.  Tell  him  I  want  him  to  get  off  the  oven 
and  come.  What's  the  use  of  his  lying  there :  we'll  make 
him  young.  Begone,  lively !  One  foot  here  and  another 
there.     Shoot!     {The  girl  runs  away.) 

Peasant  (to  Wife).  Come,  another  glass  each  !  {Farm- 
hand po^irs  otct  and  gives  them  another  glass.) 

Peasant  {drinking).  First  I  grew  younger  above,  in 
my  tongue,  then  it  went  to  my  hands.  Now  it  has 
reached  my  legs.  I  feel  my  legs  are  younger.  See  there, 
they  are  walking  by  themselves.     {Begins  to  dance.) 

Wife  {drinking).  Come,  good  fellow  Potap,  and  give 
us  some  music  !  {Fotdj)  takes  the  halaldyka  and  plays  on 
it.     Peasant  and  Wife  dance  together.) 

Fakm-hand  {playing  at  the  front  of  the  stage  and 
laughing,  while  blinking  in  their  direction.  Stops  play- 
ing, hut  they  continue  dancing).  You  will  pay  me  for  the 
crust.  The  good  fellows  are  done  up,  —  they  will  not  get 
away.     Let  him  come  and  see. 

Scene  III. 

Enter  a  hcalthy-lookiyig  old  woman  and  a  white-haired 
old  man,  and  the  same. 

Old  Man.  Have  you  lost  your  senses  ?  People  are 
working,  and  you  are  dancing. 

Wife  {dancing,  and  heating  time  with  her  hands).  Ha, 
ha,  ha  !  {In  a  singsong.)  I  have  sinned  before  God.  God 
alone  is  sinless  ! 

Old  Woman.  Ah,  you  slut !  Your  oven  is  not  at- 
tended to,  and  you  dance  ! 

Peasant.  Wait,  mother.  See  what  we  are  doing ! 
We  are  changing  old  people  into  young  ones.  Here,  take 
a  glass  !  {Hands  her  a  glass.) 


THE    FIRST    DISTILLER  185 

Old  Woman.  There  is  enough  water  in  the  well. 
(Smelling.)     What  did  you  put  in  here  ?     Whew,  what  a 

smell ! 

Peasant  and  Wife.     Just  drink  it ! 

Old  Woman '(^asim^  it).     1  declare!     Won't  it  kill 

me? 

Wife.     It  will  just  revive  you.     It  will  make  you 

young. 

Old  Woman.  Indeed  ?  (Drinking.)  It  is  good,  though  ! 
It  is  better  than  beer.  Father,  have  a  taste  of  it  yourself. 
( Old  Man  sits  down,  and  shakes  his  head.) 

Farm-hand.  Leave  him  alone !  But  grandmother 
ought  to  have  another  glass,  (Offers  the  Old  Woman  a 
glass.) 

Old  Woman.  If  only  nothing  will  happen  !  Oh,  how 
it  burns !     But  it  draws  me. 

Wife.  Drmk !  You  will  feel  it  running  through  your 
veins. 

Old  Woman.     Well,  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  try  it. 

(Brinks.) 

Wife.     Has  it  gone  to  your  legs  ? 

Old  Woman.  I  should  say  so.  It  is  down  here. 
And  I  feel  so  light.  Let  me  have  some  more  !  (Drinks 
another  glass.)     Fine  !     And  it  makes  me  so  young ! 

Peasant.     That's  what  I  told  you. 

Old  Woman.  Oh,  my  old  man  is  not  here.  If  he  could 
only  see  how  young  I  am  again.  (Farm-hand  plays. 
Peasant  and  Wife  dance.) 

Old  Woman  (walking  to  the  centre).  Is  this  the  way 
to  dance  ?  I'll  show  you  how.  (Dances.)  That's  the 
way.  And  this  way,  and  this  way.  Have  you  seen  it  ? 
(Old  Man  walks  up  to  the  kettle  and  lets  the  liquor  out 
on  the  ground.) 

Peasant  (noticing  this,  and  rushing  up  to  the  Old 
Man).  Piascal,  what  are  you  doing  there?  You  have 
wasted  all  this  good  thing  !     Oh,  you  old  duffer  !  (Pushes 


186  THE    FIRST    DISTILLER 

Mm  and  holds  the  glass  under  the  faucet.)     You  have  let 
it  all  out. 

Old  Maj^.  This  is  bad,  and  not  good.  God  has  given 
you  a  crop  of  grain,  to  feed  yourself  and  other  people 
with,  and  you  have  distilled  it  into  the  devil's  drink.  No 
good  will  come  of  it.  Give  up  this  business,  or  you  will 
perish  and  will  ruin  other  people.  Give  it  up !  You 
think  that  this  is  a  drink,  but  it  is  fire  and  will  burn  you. 
(Takes  a  chip  from  under  the  kettle  and  puts  the  fire  to 
the  liquor,  which  hums  ujp.     All  stand  in  horror.) 


ACT  V. 

Scene  I. 

Peasant's   hut     Farm-hand,  alone,  with  his  horns  and 

hoofs. 

Farm-hand.  He  has  a  lot  of  grain,  and  no  place  to  put 
it  in,  and  he  has  now  a  taste  for  it.  We  have  distilled 
some  again,  and  have  poured  it  into  a  barrel  and  have  hid 
it  away.  We  will  not  give  drink  to  people  for  nothing. 
We  will  give  drink  to  those  whom  we  need.  I  taught 
him  to-day  to  call  the  old  parasites  of  the  village  and  fill 
them  with  liquor,  so  that  they  might  separate  him  from 
the  old  man,  leaving  nothing  to  the  old  man.  To-day 
my  time  is  out,  —  three  years  have  passed  and  my  work 
is  done.  Let  the  Chief  himself  come  and  see.  I  am  not 
ashamed  to  show  things  to  him. 

Scene  II. 
The  Chief  comes  out  from  under  the  ground. 

Chief.  Well,  to-day  is  the  time.  Have  you  earned  the 
crust  ?  I  promised  you  that  I  would  come  myself  to  see. 
Have  you  worked  the  peasant  ? 

Farm-hand.  I  have  worked  him  well.  Judge  for 
yourself.  They  will  assemble  here  very  soon.  Sit  down 
in  the  oven  and  see  what  they  will  do.  You  will  be 
satisfied. 

Chief  (climbing  into  the  oven).     We  shall  see. 

187 


188  THE    FIRST    DISTILLER 

Scene  III. 

Enter  Master  and  four  Old  Men ;  behind  them  Wife. 
They  seat  themselves  at  the  table.  Wife  covers  table 
and  puts  on  it  gelatine  and  cake.  Old  Men  exchange 
greetings  with  Farm-hand. 

FiEST  Old  Man.  Well,  have  you  made  a  lot  of 
liquor  ? 

Farm-hand.  Yes,  we  have  distilled  as  much  as  we 
wanted.     What  is  the  use  of  wasting  what  we  have  ? 

Second  Old  Man.     And  is  it  good  ? 

Farm-hand.     Better  than  the  first. 

Second  Old  Man.     Where  did  you  learn  it  ? 

Farm-hand.  Travelling  over  the  world  a  man  will 
learn  a  lot. 

Third  Old  Man,  Yes,  yes,  you  are  a  man  of  experi- 
ence. 

Peasant.     Eat ! 

Wife  (brings  decanter  and  fills  the  glasses).  Do  us  the 
favour. 

First  Old  Man  {drinking).  To  your  health !.  Oh, 
it  is  good  !  It  just  goes  through  me !  [Tlie  three  other 
Old  Men  do  likewise.  Chief  issues  from  the  oven  ;  Farm- 
hand stands  near  him.) 

Farm-hand  {to  Chief).  Watch  what  will  happen. 
I  will  trip  up  the  old  woman,  and  she  will  spill  the  glass. 
Before  this  he  did  not  bother  about  the  crust,  but  just 
watch  what  will  happen  on  account  of  the  glass  of 
liquor. 

Peasant.  Wife,  fill  the  glass,  and  carry  it  around: 
to  Gossip,  and  then  to  Uncle  Mikhaylo. 

Wife  {fills  glass  and  goes  around  the  table.  Farm-hand 
trips  her  up,  she  stumbles  and  spills  the  glass).  Oh,  dear, 
I  have  spiUed  it !     The  devil  has  brought  you  here. 

Peasant  {to  Wife).     What  an  awkward  witch !     You 


THE   FIRST    DISTILLER  189 

are  yourself  as  though  without  hands,  and  there  you  talk 
against  people.  What  a  precious  thing  you  have  spilled 
there ! 

Wife.     But  I  did  not  do  so  intentionally. 

Peasant.  Xot  intentionally  !  Just  let  me  get  up  and 
teach  you  how  to  spill  the  liquor.  {To  Farm-hand.) 
And  you,  accursed  one,  what  are  you  doing  near  the  table  ? 
Go  to  the  devil !  (  Wife  fills  the  glass  again  and  takes 
it  around  the  table.) 

Fajim-hand  (ivallxing  over  to  the  oven,  and  speaking  to 
the  Chief).  You  see:  before  this  he  did  not  regret  the 
last  crust ;  but  now  he  almost  struck  his  wife  for  a  glass 
of  liquor,  and  sent  me  to  you,  the  devil. 

Chief.     Good,  very  good.     I  Hke  that ! 

Faem-hand.  Wait  awhile.  Let  them  empty  the 
bottle,  and  you  will  see  what  will  happen.  Now  they 
speak  smooth,  oily  words,  but  soon  they  will  begin  to 
flatter  one  another,  and  will  be  like  cunning  foxes. 

Peasant.  Well,  old  men,  how  are  you  going  to  settle 
my  case  ?  Grandfather  Hved  in  my  house  and  I  fed  him, 
but  now  he  has  gone  to  uncle,  and  he  wants  to  take  his 
part  of  the  house  and  to  give  it  to  uncle.  Decide  what 
is  best.  You  are  wise  men.  Without  you  we  are  as 
without  a  head.  There  are  no  people  like  you  in  the 
whole  village.  Let  us  take  Ivan  Fedotych,  —  people  say 
that  he  is  a  first-class  man ;  but  I  tell  you  the  truth,  Ivan 
Fedotych,  —  I  love  you  more  than  my  parents.  And 
Mikhayla  Stepanych  is  my  old  friend ! 

First  Old  Man  {to  Peasant).  It  is  nice  to  speak  with 
a  good  man,  —  it  gives  you  vnsdom.  So  it  is  with  you. 
It  is  hard  to  find  a  man  like  you. 

Second  Old  Man.  You  are  wise  and  kind,  and  so  I 
love  you. 

Third  Old  Man.  I  can't  teU  you  how  I  love  you.  I 
told  my  wife  so  to-day. 

Fourth  Old  Man.     You  are  a  friend,  a  true  friend. 


190  THE    FIRST    DISTILLER 

Farm-hand  (jiudging  the  Chief).  You  see  ?  They  are 
all  lying.  When  they  are  by  themselves,  they  curse  one 
another.  And  now  you  see  what  oily  words  they  use,  and 
how  they  wag  their  tails  like  foxes.  It's  all  from  the 
liquor. 

Chief.  The  liquor  is  good  !  Very  good !  If  they  are 
going  to  lie  like  that  they  will  all  be  ours.  Very  good,  I 
like  this. 

Farm-hand.  Wait :  let  them  drink  another  bottle, 
and  it  will  be  still  different. 

Wife  {treating).     Drink,  to  your  health  ! 

First  Old  Man.  Is  it  not  too  much  ?  To  your 
health !  (Drinking.)  It  is  a  joy  to  drink  with  a  good 
man. 

Second  Old  Man.  We  cannot  help  drinking.  To 
your  health,  host  and  hostess ! 

Third  Old  Man.     Friends,  to  your  health ! 

Fourth  Old  Man,  What  a  brew !  Drink  !  We'll  do 
everything,  because  I  do  what  I  will. 

First  Old  Man.  Not  exactly  your  will,  but  as  those 
who  are  older  than  you  will  say. 

Fourth  Old  Man.  Older,  but  sillier.  God,  -where 
have  you  come  from  ? 

Second  Old  Man.  Why  are  you  calling  names  ? 
You  fool ! 

Third  Old  Man.  He  is  right,  because  the  host  is  not 
treating  us  for  nothing.  He  means  business.  We  can 
settle  the  business.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  treat  us. 
Pay  your  respects  to  us,  because  you  need  me,  and  not  I 
you.     You  are  a  brother  to  a  hog. 

Peasant.  Eat  it  yourself.  Don't  yell  so.  What  is 
the  matter  with  you  ?     You  are  all  great  on  eating. 

First  Old  Man.  What  are  you  blabbing  there  ?  I'll 
knock  your  nose  edgewise. 

Peasant.     Who  will  ? 

Second    Old    Man.      Who   are   you    anyway  ?     The 


THE    FIRST   DISTILLER  191 

devil  take  you!  I  do  not  want  to  talk  with  you,  and 
will  go  away. 

Peasant  (holding  him  hack).  Don't  break  up  the  com- 
pany. 

Second  Old  Man.     Let  me  go,  or  I'll  slap  you  ! 

Peasant.     I  will  not  let  you.     What  right  have  you  ? 

Second  Old  Man.     This  right !  (Strikes  him.) 

Peasant  (to  Old  Men).  Help  !  (Fight.  Peasant  and 
Old  Men  speak  all  together.) 

First  Old  Man.  Because,  you  know,  we  are  cele- 
brating. 

Second  Old  Man.  I  can  do  anything  I  have  a  mind 
to! 

Third  Old  Man.     Let  us  have  some  more  ! 

Peasant  (shouts  to  Wife).  Let  us  have  another  bottle ! 
(All  seat  themselves  at  the  table,  and  drink.) 

Farm-hand  (to  Chief).  Now  you  have  seen  it.  The 
wolf's  blood  is  talking  in  them  now.  They  are  now  as 
bad  as  wolves. 

Chief.     It's  a  good  drink,  I  like  it. 

Far.m-hand.  Wait :  let  them  drink  a  third  bottle,  and 
it  wiU  be  stiU  different. 


ACT  VT. 

Scene  represents  a  street.  On  the  right  Old  Men  are  sit- 
ing on  logs,  and  the  Grandfather  is  between  them. 
In  the  7niddle  the  women,  girls,  and  lads  dance  the 
round  dance.  Tliey  sing  a  dancing  song  and  dance. 
In  the  hut  a  noise  and  drunken  sounds  are  heard; 
out  comes  an  Old  Man,  shouting  in  a  drunken  voice  ; 
behind  him  comes  the  host,  who  leads  him  back. 

Scene  I. 

Gkandfather.  Oh,  what  sins  !  What  more  does  one 
want !  Work  during  the  week,  and  when  a  hohday 
comes,  wash  yourself,  fix  the  harness,  take  a  rest,  sit 
down  with  your  family,  go  into  the  street  to  the  old  men, 
and  discuss  public  matters !  And  if  you  are  young,  have 
a  good  time !  They  sing  well,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  look 
at  them.  It  is  all  good  and  peaceful.  (Noise  in  the  hut.) 
But  what  is  this?  They  only  provoke  people  and  give 
pleasure  to  the  devils.     It  is  all  from  too  good  living  I 

Scene  II. 

From  the  hut  rush  drunken  men.  They  make  for  the 
women  of  the  round  dance,  and  shout,  and  seize  the, 
girls. 

Girls.     Let  me  go.  Uncle  Karp !     Shame  on  you  ! 
Lads.     We  shall  have  to  go  to  the  lane,  for  there  is  no 

192 


THE   FIRST    DISTILLER  193 

fun  here!     (All  go  away,  except  the  drunken  man  and 
Grandfather.) 

Peasant  (ivalks  icp  to  Grandfather,  and  shoivs  him  a 
Jig).  What  did  you  get  ?  The  old  men  have  promised  to 
give  it  all  to  me.  This  is  what  you  get.  Eat  it !  They 
have  given  it  all  to  me,  and  you  have  nothing.  They'll 
tell  you  so. 

First  Old  Man.     Because  I  know  what  is  what. 
Second  Old  Man.     I  can  get  the  best  of  any  one,  be- 
cause I  myseK  have  whiskers. 

Third  Old  Man.     Dear,  deary,  dearest ! 
Fourth  Old  Man.     Walk  hut,  walk  oven,  —  no  place 
for  the  hostess  to  sleep  !     We  are  celebrating  ! 

(The  Old  Men  take  hold  of  one  another  in  pairs  arid 
walk  off,  tottering.  Feasant  walks  toward  the 
house,  hut  stumbles  hefore  reaching  it,  falls  down, 
and  grumbles  unintelligibly,  as  if  grunting. 
Grandfather  and  peasants  get  up  and  walk 
aioay.) 


Scene  III. 
Chief  and  Farm-hand  come  forward. 

Farm-hand.  Did  you  see  it?  Now  the  pig  blood  is 
talking  in  them.  They  have  turned  from  wolves  into 
pigs.  (Foints  to  the  Feasant.)  He  is  lying  like  a  swine 
in  the  mud,  and  grunting. 

Chief.  Serves  him  right !  First  like  foxes,  then  hke 
wolves,  and  now  they  are  hke  pigs.  It's  a  great  drink 
Tell  me  how  you  made  such  a  drink.  You  must  have 
put  fox,  wolf,  and  pig  blood  into  it. 

Farm-hand.  No,  I  only  raised  more  grain  than  usual 
So  long  as  he  had  barely  enough  grain,  he  did  not  mind  a 
crust ;  but  when  he  could  not  store  it  away,  there  arose  in 


194  THE    FIEST    DISTILLER 

him  the  blood  of  a  fox,  a  wolf,  and  a  pig.  The  beast 
blood  has  always  been  in  him,  but  it  did  not  have  a 
chance  before. 

Chief.  You  are  a  fine  fellow !  You  have  earned  the 
crust.  Let  them  just  go  on  drinking  liquor,  and  they  will 
always  be  in  our  power  ! 


VERSES 


VERSES 


As  in  the  presence  of  the  rose 

The  onion  vainly  feels  regret, 
So  I  feel  shame  to  meet  in  prose 

Your  challenge,  my  beloved  Fet. 

And  thus  I'll  answer  you  in  rhyme,  — 

^ly  first  attempt,  —  which  makes  me  fret : 

Decide  yourself  whei'e  ?  at  what  time  V 
Be  sure  you  come  to  see  us,  Fet. 

What  care  I  if  the  summer's  wet 
Or  dry,  and  I  lose  all  my  corn. 
So  long  as  I  can  walk  with  Fet, 


^& 


And  talk  with  him  from  morn  till  morn  ? 

We  worry  both  our  lives  away,  — 
The  future  sorrows  may  beget,  — 

Sufficient  is  unto  the  day 
The  evil  of  it,  comrade  Fet. 

1  Only  the  first  number  is  authentically  Tolst6y's.  It  was 
written  in  1872.  The  second  is  given  on  the  authority  of  Behrs, 
Tolst6y's  brother-in-law.  It  was  supposed  to  have  been  written  at 
Sevastopol.  The  third  has  been  shown  to  have  originated  in  con- 
junction with  other  officers.  It  is  impossible  to  ascertain  which  of 
these  lines  were  composed  by  Tolstdy  himself. 

197 


198  VEBSES 


IL 

On  September,  day  the  eighth, 
Fighting  for  our  Tsar  and  faith, 
From  the  French  we  fled. 

And  so  bravely  we  departed 
That  the  wounded  men  who  started 
In  the  steppe  fell  dead. 

M^nshik,  admiral  the  sane, 
In  the  deep  and  briny  main 
Scuttled  every  ship. 

"  Luck  to  you,"  so  M^nshik  said, 
To  Bakchisardy  he  fled, 
"...  take  you  all  I  " 

Saint  Arnot,  —  he  acted  squarely,  — 
For  he  left  the  trenches  early, 
Flanked  us  from  behind- 

He'd  have  taken  us,  no  doubt, 
Had  our  saint  not  helped  us  out 
On  that  fateful  day. 

And  they  stormed  from  land  and  sea 
Sevastopol  mightily 

With  enormous  guns. 

And  the  clergy  with  devotion 
Prayed  to  God  to  shake  the  ocean 
And  to  drown  the  French. 

Up  then  sprang  a  mighty  gale. 
But  the  French  lost  not  a  sail 
On  the  stormy  sea. 

Grand  dukes  came  to  bluff  the  French, 
But  the  enemy  did  not  blench. 
Firing  off  their  guns. 


VERSES  199 

Sharpshooters  we  needed  sadly, 

But  the  Guard  did  waut  them  badly, 

Took  them  all  from  us. 

We  were  waiting  for  a  throng 
Speedily  to  come  along 
Down  from  Kishinev. 

Ddnenberg  they  told  outright 
To  proceed  with  them  and  fight, 
Sparing  not  a  man. 

Soymonov  and  Pflvlov  went 
Up  a  steep  and  hard  ascent, 
And  they  never  met. 

And  Liprdndi,  who  was  told 
That  the  French  were  getting  bold. 
Did  not  lend  a  hand. 

Some  ten  thousand  were  laid  low, 
So  the  Emperor  did  not  show 
Any  grace  to  us. 

And  the  Grand  Duke,  he  got  mad, 
"  Ours  have  turned  their  backs,"  he  said, 
"  Are  not  worth  a  fig." 

From  this  great  and  bloody  scrape 
Only  two  came  out  in  shape,  — 
Their  two  Highnesses. 

With  St.  Georges  decorated 

They  were  taken  to  be  feted 

To  St.  Petersburg. 

In  the  winter  we  rushed  out,  — 
Soldiers  fell  in  many  a  rout 
Near  the  gabions. 

Reinforcements  M6nshik  needed ; 
His  request  the  Emperor  heeded,  — 
Siken  was  despatched. 


200  VEESES 

M^nehik,  admiral  the  sly, 
Wrote  the  Tsar  a  tart  reply : 
"  Bd.tyu8hka  our  Tsar, 

"  Erofy^ich  is  too  dense, 
And  your  babies  have  no  sense, 
They  do  me  no  good." 

M^nshik's  letter  made  him  mad, 
At  the  muster  he  looked  sad. 
And  at  once  grew  ill ; 

Then  the  Tsar  to  neaven  sped, 
Where  they  wanted  him,  though  dead,  • 
Wished  him  long  ago. 

And  before  the  Tsar  was  gone, 
He  spoke  firmly  to  his  son : 
"  You  be  on  your  guard  1 " 

So  the  son  to  M6nshik  wrote  : 
«*  I  don't  care  for  you  a  groat, 
Damn  you,  admiral ! 

« I  will  soon  despatch  another,  — 

Gorchakdv,  who  did  so  bother 

Formerly  the  Turks. 

"  He  will  get  no  mighty  host : 
He  is  glad  if  he  can  boast 
Pants  of  crimson  hue." 

Even  though  they  sent  Khrul^v, 
Drive  we  could  not  from  Kozlov 
Any  of  the  Turks. 

Work  we  shall  unto  the  end, 
Sevastopol  to  defend,  — 
Maybe  they  will  run. 

III. 

On  the  fourth  we  sallied  out. 
Carried  by  the  devils'  rout. 
Mounts  to  occupy. 


VERSES  201 


Baron  Vr6vski  was  commanding 
Gorchak6v,  who  then  was  standing 
At  the  mountain's  foot: 

"Prince,  this  mountain  you  must  seize,- 
No  discussions,  if  you  please, 
Or  you'll  be  denounced." 

All  big  guns  with  epaulette 
Solemnly  in  councils  met, — 
Even  Chief  Bekok. 

And  Commandant  Chief  Bek6k 
Tried  to  say  something,  —  got  stuck, 
Did  not  say  a  word. 

Long  they  counselled  what  to  do. 
Which  topographers  all  drew 
On  a  map  of  war. 

This  war  map  was  nice  and  clean,— 
How  to  get  tlirough  the  ravine 
They  forgot  to  say. 

Forward  hastened  princes,  counts. 
And  topographers  on  mounts 
To  the  great  redoubt. 

Gorchak6v  said  :  "  Go,  Liprdndi  I  ** 
But  Liprandi,  "  No,  attendez, 
I  don't  want  to  go  ; 

<*  For  that  job  there  is  no  need 
Of  a  clever  man  ;  send  Read,  — 
I'll  be  looking  on." 

Read  without  a  moment's  doubt 

To  the  bridge  ran  with  a  shout: 

♦<  Rush  it  with  *  hurrah  I ' " 

Weimar  wept  and  begged  of  Read 
Not  to  rush  ;  he  did  not  heed : 
♦<  No,  I  cannot  stop." 


202  VERSES 

Merrily  we  yelled  ''hurrah," 
The  reserves  remained  away,  — 
Some  one  was  at  fault. 

Of  whole  regiments  did  arrive 
But  two  companies  alive 
At  FedyTikhin  Heights. 

Ushakdv  the  general,  — 
He  was  not  afraid  at  all 
Waiting  for  a  change. 

And  he  could  not  wait  much  longer, 
And  his  heart  gi-ew  strong  and  stronger, 
And  he  crossed  the  rill. 

And  Byeldvtsov  shook  the  flag 
Like  a  piece  of  dirty  rag,  — 
'Twas  not  nice  at  all. 

Our  army  was  not  strong, 
'When  the  Frenchmen  rushed  along, 
And  no  succour  came. 

From  the  garrison,  we  thought, 
A  fresh  column  woidd  be  brought, 
And  we  gave  the  sign. 

General  Sclken  had  a  scare, 

He  read  prayer  after  prayer 

To  the  Holy  Maid. 

We  were  pressed  and  had  to  run 

*  •  •  •  •  •  # 

Whither  we  were  led. 

We  did  wait  at  Fot-Salfl 
For  our  bdtyushka  the  Tsar, — 
He  came  on  the  first. 

Everybody  with  emotion 
Was  expecting  some  promotion,  -.i. 
Did  not  get  a  thing. 


LEV  N.  TOLSTOY 

An  Analysis  of  His  Life  and  Works  by  the 

Translator 


LEV  N.  TOLSTOY 

An  Analysis  of  His  Life  and  Works  by  the 

Translator 


There  is  a  well-known  philological  phenomenon  by 
which  exactly  opposite  meanings  may  be  derived  from 
one  and  the  same  root,  not  by  any  lucus  a  non  lucendo 
method,  but  because  a  slight  shifting  of  an  emphasis  fre- 
quently leads  to  an  inversion  of  the  idea  under  considera- 
tion. It  is  by  a  similar  process  that  Tolstoy's  life  and 
works  have  been  interpreted  from  diametrically  opposite 
sides.  Some  would  make  us  believe  that  Tolstoy  is  a 
modern  saint,  while  others  decry  him  as  a  mountebank 
and  hypocrite.  If  we  are  to  believe  one  set  of  authors, 
Tolstoy  is  a  far-sighted  statesman,  a  practic;  1  Christian,  a 
trenchant  critic  of  the  existing  order  of  things,  an  edu- 
cator of  marvellous  insight,  an  artist,  and  a  profound  art 
critic ;  while  others  prove  to  us  persuasively  that  his 
teachings  are  subversive  of  all  order,  that  his  Christianity 
is  the  claptrap  of  the  sectarian  verbalist,  that  he  is  a 
dreamer  and  does  not  know  anything  about  the  actual 
state  of  affairs,  that  he  is  an  indifferent  teacher,  that  his 
productions  rarely  rise  above  mediocrity,  and  that  as  an 
art  critic  he  is  absolutely  wrong.  According  to  some 
he  belongs  to  the  same  category  of  writers  as  Dostodvski, 

206 


206  LEY    N.    TOLSTOY 

Turg^nev,  and  the  rest  of  the  great  Paissian  authors,  while 
according  to  others  he  stands  outside  all  literary  circles 
and  traditions. 

This  great  diversity  of  opinions  is  by  no  means  confined 
to  foreign  critics,  for  even  in  Russia  Tolstoy  is  viewed 
variously,  and  what  adds  there  to  the  confusion  of  him 
who  would  get  an  exact  picture  of  the  man  is  the  strange 
fact  that  contrary  conceptions  are  held  by  the  same  indi- 
viduals. Thus  the  men  of  state,  who  see  in  him  a  harmless, 
impractical  fanatic,  none  the  less  fear  him  as  a  tremendous 
power,  to  whose  insidious  activity  they  would  ascribe 
much  of  the  present  agitation.  So,  too,  the  revolutionists 
and  liberals,  who  stand  at  the  opposite  pole  of  political 
wisdom  from  the  one  pointed  out  by  Tolstoy,  and  who 
differ  widely  from  him  in  all  practical  questions,  are  quick 
to  recognize  him  as  a  factor  in  the  liberation  of  the  coun- 
try and  have  placed  his  name  at  the  head  of  their  con- 
stitutional programmes,  as  that  of  one  who  augurs  the 
greatness  of  the  new  Russia. 

Wherever  the  truth  may  be,  it  is  obvious  that  only  a 
nature  of  gigantic  proportions  could  give  rise  to  such 
varied  valuations.  But  here  we  are  again  confronted 
with  the  question  as  to  how  much  Tolstoy's  pecuHar 
genius  is  the  outcropping  of  a  soil  rich  in  literary  talent, 
such  as  Russia  has  been  the  home  of  since  the  forties  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  how  much  originality  we  should 
ascribe  to  the  author's  ideas,  which  show  direct  obliga- 
tions to  a  large  number  of  foreign  writers,  mainly  Ameri- 
can, and  how  much  influence  he  is  exerting,  or  likely  to 
exert,  in  his  own  country  and  abroad.  The  answer  is 
fraught  with  many  difficulties,  as  so  far  little  or  no  atten- 
tion has  been  directed  to  this  aspect  of  Tolstoy's  activity, 
and  these  difficulties  are  still  further  enhanced  for  an 
American,  because,  in  spite  of  the  remarkable  parallelism 
of  the  intellectual  movements  of  the  two  countries  in  the 
last  150  years,  literature  has  had  such  widely  different 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  207 

functions  in  Eussia  that  it  is  not  always  easy  for  an 
American  correctly  to  appraise  any  given  literary  produc- 
tion or  the  whole  literary  activity  of  a  Russian  author. 

That  the  Russian  and  the  American  intellectual  life 
have  many  points  in  common  must  be  apparent  even 
to  the  casual  observer.  While  Franklin  developed  an 
astounding  energy  in  every  imaginable  field  of  human 
endeavour,  Lomondsov  wrote  tragedies,  poetry,  and  history, 
taught  iu  the  academy  and  lectured,  established  labora- 
tories and  investigated,  simultaneously  with  Franklin,  the 
electricity  of  the  clouds.  What  Benjamin  Rush  and 
other  men  of  his  stamp  did  for  the  young  American 
republic  was,  at  the  end  of  the  reign  of  Catherine  (who, 
by  the  way,  gave  a  commission  to  the  American  naval 
hero,  John  Paul  Jones),  inaugurated  by  the  zealous  band 
of  Masons,  by  men  like  Novikov,  and  Radishchev's  Jour- 
ney from  St.  Petershurg  to  3Ioscoiv  advocated  reforms 
which  Benjamin  Rush  helped  to  inaugurate  in  Pennsyl- 
vania, among  them  the  abolition  of  slavery. 

Alexander  I.'s  offer  to  mediate  in  the  American  war 
of  1812,  which  was  contemporaneous  with  the  French 
invasion  of  Russia,  was  not  a  mere  whim  of  the  emperor, 
but  was  based  on  his  genuine  interest  in  everything 
American,  as  is  evidenced  by  his  request  to  be  given  a 
draft  of  the  American  constitution,  which  Thomas  Jeffer- 
son sent  him,  and  by  his  great  partiahty  to  Americans 
visiting  Russia,  to  one  of  whom,  Poinset,  he  offered  any 
commission  he  would  be  willing  to  accept.  The  interest 
of  Russians  in  America,  first  shown  by  Radishchev,  who 
in  his  work  refers  to  the  United  States,  and  evinced  by 
Alexander,  was  quite  apparent  in  the  first  quarter  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  when  PoMtika,  a  member  of  the  famous 
literary  society  of  the  "  Arzamas,"  of  which  Pushkin  and 
other  distinguished  authors  were  members,  passed  a  number 
of  years  in  the  United  States  and  wrote  one  of  the  first 
books    on   America.     This    work,    written    originally    in 


208  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

French,  but,  as  the  author  said,  intended  for  his  Eussian 
fellow  citizens,  interested  even  people  in  America,  where, 
in  the  year  1826,  it  was  translated  into  Enghsh. 

Again,  the  abohtion  movement  in  the  United  States 
ran  parallel  with  the  agitation  for  the  emancipation  of  the 
serfs  in  Eussia,  and  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe's  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin  finds  its  counterpart  in  Turgenev's  and  Grigord- 
vich's  peasant  stories  ;  indeed,  Grigorovich  was  even  called 
the  Eussian  Beecher-Stowe.  While  the  agitation  for  free- 
ing the  slaves  culminated  in  America  in  the  Civil  War, 
the  same  agitation  for  the  emancipation  of  the  serfs  ended 
in  Eussia  simultaneously  in  their  being  set  free. 

We  have  so  far  traced  the  chronological  parallelism  in 
the  intellectual  movements  in  the  two  countries  and  have 
pointed  out  the  great  share  that  America  has  had  in  the 
literary  life  of  Eussia  up  to  the  sixties.  But  the  diver- 
gencies, even  up  to  that  time,  and  certainly  later,  are  more 
patent  than  the  resemblances.  Why,  if  Eussia  has  kept 
in  close  contact  with  what  has  been  going  on  in  the 
United  States  and  has  drawn  largely  on  its  intellectual 
resources,  has  Eussian  literature  developed  so  differently 
from  American  literature,  and  why  has  Eussian  p.olitical 
and  social  life  not  taken  the  same  direction  as  in  America  ? 
The  elucidation  of  these  questions  will  make  it  possible 
for  us  to  find  the  proper  setting  for  Tolstoy's  activity,  will 
clearly  define  his  position  in  the  Eussian  intellectual  life, 
and  will  show  us  his  indebtedness  to  American  thought. 

Eevolt  is  the  dominant  note  in  a  nation's  forward  move- 
ment toward  a  better  future.  Without  revolt  there  can 
be  no  progi-ess.  A  breaking  away  from  established  cus- 
toms, beliefs,  practices,  is  necessarily  accompanied  by  a 
certain  amount  of  violence.  This  opposition  to  stagnation 
may  find  its  expression  as  revolt,  reform,  or  protest,  and 
in  its  acute  stage  rises  to  Eevolution,  Eeformation,  Protes- 
tantism, which  mark  the  end  of  the  old,  and  the  begin- 
ning of  the  new,  era.     A  revolution,  the  culmination  of  a 


LEV  N.  tolst6y  209 

long  period  of  systematic  protestations,  is  brought  about 
in  consequence  of  continued  political  action  or  by  a 
thorough  ferment  of  men's  minds  through  literary  means, 
or  by  both  factors  at  the  same  time.  Where  political  life 
has  been  able  to  evolve  itself,  the  revolt  partakes  more  of 
the  nature  of  action ;  where  that  has  not  been  the  case, 
the  revolt  finds  its  expression  chiefly  through  the  written 
word. 

Here  precisely  lies  the  difference  between  the  evolu- 
tion of  liberty  in  the  United  States  and  in  Russia.  In 
America,  with  the  inherited  English  political  life,  protests 
have  even  been  made  by  political  pamphlets,  by  means 
of  the  ephemeral  press,  by  public  meetings,  —  by  resolu- 
tionizing,  —  and,  in  extreme  cases,  by  an  appeal  to  arms. 
Literature,  that  is,  belles-lettres,  with  the  probable  excep- 
tion of  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,  has  never  entered  into  the  arena 
of  political  struggle,  and  it  would  puzzle  an  American  to 
hear  one  speak  of  a  Democratic  or  a  Republican  literature. 
But  countries  like  Russia  have  had  neither  the  liberty  to 
express  their  views  collectively  nor  the  historical  training 
necessary  for  concerted  action.  Whatever  progress  has 
been  made  in  Russia  has  invariably  proceeded  from  a 
small,  mentally  energetic  group  of  men  who  have  reached 
out  to  larger  and  ever  larger  masses  by  means  of  the 
written  word  in  its  most  attractive  form,  the  belles-lettres, 
which  alone  could  be  accessible  to  the  whole  intellectual 
class  of  readers. 

Thus  we  are  led  to  formulate  the  lemma  that  literature 
stands  in  inverse  proportion  to  the  political  life  of  a 
nation.  The  more  vigorous  the  political  action  is,  the 
more  does  literature  fade  as  a  factor  of  progress ;  the  less 
developed  a  nation  is  politically,  the  more  does  literature 
come  to  the  front  as  the  all-absorbing  subject  of  intel- 
lectual life.  In  America  literature  has  ever  been  the 
mental  sport  of  men  of  letters,  and  has  served  as  a  means 
of  amusement   or  refinement  for  the  leisure  class.     In 


210  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

Russia  it  has,  at  least  through  the  last  three  quarters 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  been  the  solemn  occupation  of 
men  working  for  definite  social  and  political  purposes, 
and  has  served,  not  as  a  means  for  pleasantly  passing  the 
time,  but  as  instruction,  as  the  confession  of  the  heart,  as 
a  species  of  national  wisdom,  as  the  forum  of  public 
opinion,  for  all  those  who  read.  While  the  chief  purpose 
of  literature  in  America  has  been  to  create  laughter 
(witness  the  large  number  of  humourists),  Eussian  litera- 
ture, with  but  rare  exceptions,  provokes  tears,  —  tears  of 
contrition,  tears  of  despair,  tears  of  emotion,  but  always 
tears. 

When,  toward  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  some- 
thing like  public  opinion  was  beginning  to  formulate  itself 
in  Eussia,  it  found  its  expression  in  satires,  calling  into 
life  a  whole  series  of  satirical  journals,  and  in  comedies, 
which  dealt  with  the  same  reverse  sides  of  the  national 
existence.  At  a  time  when  in  America  the  new  wine 
of  political  freedom  led  to  the  practical  realization  of 
advanced  ideas  in  the  foundation  of  schools,  in  the 
upbuilding  of  states  and  cities,  in  the  extension  of  com- 
mercial enterprises  to  most  distant  countries,  Eussia  was 
concentrating  all  her  efforts  on  the  development  of  her 
literary  resources.  The  reign  of  Alexander  I.,  so  famous 
for  the  gigantic  struggle  with  the  French  intruder,  is  far 
more  important  as  the  period  when  all  kinds  of  literary 
productions  feverishly  contended  with  one  another  for 
supremacy,  when  every  foreign  influence  was  brought  to 
bear  on  the  development  of  the  national  literature,  when 
the  pseudo-classic,  the  Eom antic,  the  Sentimental  schools 
existed  side  by  side,  when  translations  from  the  Greek, 
the  Latin,  the  Italian,  the  German,  the  English,  reached 
the  highest  possible  linguistic  perfection,  —  when  the 
whole  foundation  was  laid  for  a  distinctly  Eussian 
literature. 

But   even   then,   when  the   youthful   fervour   of   the 


LEV   N.   TOLSTOY  211 

creative  genius  revelled  in  form  rather  than  in  contents, 
we  clearly  perceive  the  new  mission  that  Russian  belles- 
lettres  were  to  have  as  a  school  of  liberty  for  the  people. 
As  early  as  the  end  of  Catherine's  reign,  Eadishchev, 
whose  Journey  from  St.  Petersburg  to  Moscow  smacked 
too  much  of  Frankhn,  as  Catherine  expressed  it,  and 
advocated  reforms  which  were  carried  out  in  the  emanci- 
pation of  the  serfs,  suffered  exile  for  his  hberal  views. 
Pushkin,  who  in  his  younger  years  fully  comprehended  his 
office  of  a  poet  to  be  that  of  a  champion  of  liberty,  was 
banished  to  the  south  of  Russia.  Ryly^ev,  whose  ardent 
muse  was  devoted  to  patriotic  songs,  joined  the  Decem- 
brist revolt  and  lost  his  Hfe  together  with  the  other 
revolutionists. 

The  literary  activity  evolved  in  Russia  during  the  reign 
of  Nicholas  I.  differs  even  more  widely  from  the  literary 
activity  of  America  for  the  same  period.  The  poetry  of 
the  two  countries,  at  least  for  the  earher  part  of  the 
second  quarter  of  the  century,  offers  many  parallels. 
Bryant,  Whittier,  Lowell,  Longfellow,  bear  much  resem- 
blance to  Pushin,  L^rmontov,  and  the  other  poets  of  the 
period ;  but  very  soon  Russian  poetry,  though  not  discon- 
tinued, falls  entirely  into  the  background,  overshadowed 
by  the  more  powerful  prose  and  put  to  rout  by  the  incis- 
ive analysis  of  the  Russian  critics,  while  in  America, 
where  the  cry  against  art  for  art's  sake  was  not  seriously 
considered,  poetry,  the  same  kind  of  poetry  as  before,  and 
every  kind  of  poetry,  continues  unabated  to  give  its  peri- 
odic crops.  The  revolt  is  voiced  by  Whitman  alone,  who 
thus  is  more  akiu  to  the  Russian  spirit.  American  prose, 
when,  like  Emerson's,  it  is  not  in  a  lighter  vein,  is  acces- 
sible only  to  the  choice  spirits  of  refined  society,  and  the 
social,  political,  religious  revolts  find  their  expression  in 
the  byways  of  literature,  entirely  escaping  the  attention 
of  the  public  at  large.  The  protest  against  the  existing 
order  leads  to  the  formation  of  communities,  such  as  the 


212  LEV  N.    TOLSTOY 

Brook  Farm,  the  Hopedale  Community,  the  communities 
of  the  Perfectionists,  or  engages  men,  like  William  Lloyd 
Garrison,  in  a  vigorous,  untiring  propaganda  by  public 
speeches  and  political  pamphlets,  or,  as  in  the  case  of 
Parker,  restricts  the  agitation  to  the  narrower  circle  of  the 
church.  In  Eussia  men  like  Ballou,  Garrison,  Parker 
would  have  become  the  shining  lights  of  literature. 

Meanwhile  the  Eussiau  critics  were  applying  aquafortis 
to  the  theory  of  art  for  art's  sake,  completely  reducing 
the  splendid  poetry  of  the  first  third  of  the  century  to 
mere  literary  lees.  The  belles-lettres  were  put  under 
tribute  to  the  critics,  who  henceforth  acted  as  appraisers 
and  censors  of  every  nascent  genius.  It  was  in  the  thir- 
ties that  Eussian  youths  first  came  in  contact  with  Ger- 
man philosophy  and  that  Schelling  and  Hegel  dictated 
the  terms  on  which  all  literary  activity  in  Eussia  was  to 
develop,  and  the  authors  hastened  to  apply  these  German 
ideas  to  their  productions  with  much  more  zeal  than  was 
done  in  Germany  itself.  Eussians  have  ever  shown  a 
readiness  to  adopt  foreign  ideas  and  make  them  much 
more  thoroughly  the  basis  of  action  than  they  are  in  the 
countries  of  their  birth.  Thus  Sterne's  sentimentalism, 
and  Gothe's  Werthers  Leiden  gave  rise  to  Karamzin's  Poor 
Liza,  with  the  pilgrimage  of  hundreds  of  readers  to  Liza's 
Pond,  the  imaginary  spot  where  the  action  of  the  story 
took  place  ;  Byron's  romanticism  found  its  perfervid  advo- 
cates in  Pushkin  and  L^rmontov,  and  gave  rise  to  the 
ultra-romantic  novels  of  Bestuzhev-Marlinski  and  the  ul- 
tra-romantic love-affairs  of  the  author  himself.  Moleschott 
and  Buchner  played  havoc  with  the  generation  of  men  in 
the  sixties,  and  Turg^nev  has  given  us  a  picture  of  such 
an  ultra-materialism  in  Bazarov,  the  hero  of  his  Fathers 
and  Sons. 

Several  causes  have  brought  about  this  unusual  zeal 
for  new  ideas,  chief  among  which  are  the  absence  of 
pohtical,  social,  cultural  traditions  and  the  inherent  ration- 


LEV   N.   TOLSTOY  213 

alism  of  the  Russian  mind.  Both  causes  preclude  the 
principle  of  compromise,  which  has  played  such  an  impor- 
tant part  in  the  evolution  of  Anglo-Saxon  life.  The 
clearly  outlined  class  traditions  and  the  readiness  to  ac- 
cept ecclesiastic,  political,  and  social  fictions,  which  are 
common  in  English-speaking  countries,  make  compromise 
a  matter  of  necessity,  for,  to  have  one's  idiosyncrasies  re- 
spected, it  is  indispensable  that  those  of  one's  neighbours 
be  respected  as  well.  Tliis  tendency  to  compromise,  to 
consider  expediency,  rather  than  abstract  truth  and  jus- 
tice, leads  the  Anglo-Saxon  to  emphasize  the  practical  side 
of  life,  to  value  an  idea  according  to  its  immediate  appli- 
cability. 

For  the  Eussian,  compromise  has  no  meaning.  What 
nucleus  of  class  tradition  there  may  have  existed  previous 
to  the  reforms  of  Peter  the  Great  was  carried  away  by  the 
introduction  of  distinctions  of  rank  (the  chins),  which  are 
granted  only  for  service.  This  absence  of  a  class  tradition 
has  remained  permanent,  because  the  successive  genera- 
tions of  men  of  culture  have  been  recruited  from  different 
centres  and  have  been  shifted  from  the  higher  nobility  in 
the  eighteenth  century  to  the  gentry  in  the  first  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  and  since  then  to  the  men  of  various 
ranks,  including  the  peasants  since  their  emancipation. 
So  constant  and  so  complete  has  been  the  shifting  of  in- 
tellectualism  that  there  have  not  existed  any  common 
points  between  fathers  and  sons,  so  that  the  very  name  of 
Fathers  and  Sons  served  Turg^nev  as  the  basis  for  what 
he  intended  to  be  the  most  characteristic  Russian  novel  of 
the  time.  The  bureaucracy,  too,  though  forming  a  more 
compact  body  than  any  other  class  in  the  state,  has  always 
been  recruited  from  all  the  different  classes  and  has  never 
been  self-perpetuating.  Thus  neither  social,  nor  cultural, 
nor  political  traditions  have  found  any  favourable  soil  in 
Russia,  and  the  question  of  compromise  has  not  been 
urgent. 


214  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

Not  only  have  the  so-called  "  practical "  considerations 
been  inactive  in  Eussian  life,  but  there  have  also  been 
positive  incitements  to  the  enthronement  of  reason,  jus- 
tice, and  truth  independently  of  their  applicability  and 
practical  convenience.  Even  in  the  most  remote  past  one 
is  struck  by  the  extremely  rational  sense  of  the  Kussians, 
The  early  chronicles  startle  one  by  their  realistic  narra- 
tion, which  is  evidently  based  on  actual  participation  in 
the  events  or  on  the  reports  of  eye-witnesses.  Nikitin's 
account  of  his  journey  to  India  could  not  have  been 
written  with  greater  straightforwardness  at  the  present 
time,  and  stands  in  remarkable  contrast  to  Marco  Polo's 
story,  which  precedes  Nikitin's  by  less  than  a  century. 
The  pilgrimage  of  Daniel  the  Palmer  to  Jerusalem  is  a 
remarkable  document  which  baffles  one  by  its  modern- 
ness.  Not  less  rational  is  the  Eussian  peasant.  It  is 
only  his  ignorance,  which  is  fostered  by  state  and  church, 
that  keeps  him  down  to  a  low  level  of  life ;  the  moment 
he  frees  himself  from  the  incubus  of  state  and  church,  he 
develops  a  remarkable  mental  activity,  interprets  the 
Gospel  without  reserve  of  thought  or  of  action,  and  lives 
up  to  his  convictions.  By  far  the  best  part  of  the  Eus- 
sian peasant  population  is  to  be  found  among  the  dis- 
senters, the  Dukhobors,  the  Milkers,  the  Stuudists,  the 
Lashers,  some  of  whom,  by  a  wrong  interpretation  of 
Gospel  tenets,  carry  their  convictions  to  such  excess  that 
they  commit  self-mutilation  and  self-destruction.  In  the 
same  way  have  the  intellectuals  of  Eussia  unswervingly 
followed  the  dictates  of  their  reason,  independently  of  any 
consequences  and  making  no  concessions  to  the  opinions 
of  their  antagonists. 

Eussia  presents  many  examples  of  this  uncompromising 
spirit :  the  ineradicable  hostility  between  the  bureaucracy 
and  the  intellectuals,  the  hopeless  and  useless  Decembrist 
revolt,  the  mad  daring  of  the  Nihilists  and  Eevolutionists, 
the  wicked  persecutions  of  the  Greek  Catholic  Church, 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  215 

and  the  dogged  passive  opposition  of  the  dissenting  sects 
all  bear  witness  to  the  unbending,  indomitable  mental 
attitude  of  the  average  Eussian.  With  such  material,  it 
would  seem,  the  liberal  tendencies  once  expressed  would 
inevitably  lead  in  the  end  to  victory,  and  all  actions 
would  be  carried  to  their  logical  consequences.  That 
would,  indeed,  be  the  case,  if  certain  negative  qualities  in 
the  Russian  character,  vacillation  and  aimlessness,  did 
not  constantly  undo  what  is  categorically  dictated  by 
reason. 

Periodically  there  have  appeared  in  Eussia  novels  which 
centre  about  an  individual  intended  as  the  personifica- 
tion of  the  average  Eussian.  Such  have  been  Pushkin's 
Evgeni  Onyegin,  L^rmontov's  The  Hero  of  Our  Time, 
Herzen's  Mlio  Is  to  Blame  ?  Gonchardv's  OUomov,  Tur- 
g^nev's  Fathers  and  Sons,  Chernyshevski's  What  Is  to  Be 
Bone  ?  In  all  of  these  the  heroes  suffer  from  the  fatal 
national  vice,  which  leaves  their  activity  unfinished  and 
which  puts  to  naught  all  their  good  endeavours  by  lead- 
ing them  to  cheerless,  hopeless  resignation.  The  writer 
of  these  Hues,  hke  many  other  Eussians,  was  probably 
more  affected,  during  the  formative  period  of  his  life,  by 
Gonchardv's  OUomov  than  by  any  other  book.  He  felt 
that  Obldmov,  with  all  his  good  intentions,  but  with  his 
indolence,  his  vacillation,  his  aimlessness,  was  he  himself  ; 
that  he  was  certainly  moving  fast  in  the  direction  taken 
by  the  hero  of  the  novel,  and  that  there  were  no  forces 
within  him  to  save  him  from  the  pool  of  stagnation. 

So  long  as  this  vacillation  and  fatalistic  indolence 
was  confined  to  the  upper  classes,  as  was  the  case  in 
the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century.,  the  hero  of  the 
novel  was  an  aristocratic  Lovelace  or  a  blas^  Byronian 
who  ascribed  his  despondency  to  a  satiety  with  the  arti- 
ficial conditions  of  society.  But  in  the  thirties  the  edu- 
cated young  men,  having  come  in  contact  with  German 
philosophy,  no  longer  lived  the  careless  life  of  gentlemen  : 


216  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

they  were  anxious  to  tear  themselves  away  from  the 
slough  of  inactivity,  they  wanted  to  do  something.  Of 
this  type  are  the  heroes  described  in  WJio  Is  to  Blame  ? 
and  in  Ohlomov.  Meanwhile  a  strong  democratic  senti- 
ment was  sweeping  the  whole  country,  and  the  "  people," 
by  which  term  the  lower  classes,  preeminently  the  peas- 
ants, were  meant,  became  the  watchword  for  those  who 
were  endeavouring  to  find  a  useful  activity  for  them- 
selves. 

The  aristocratic  feeling  among  the  upper  classes  had 
never  been  very  strong,  as  the  previously  mentioned 
bureaucratic  regime  of  distinctions  of  rank  seriously  inter- 
fered with  the  consolidation  of  the  nobility.  The  only 
permanent  superior  arbiter  of  thought  and  action  was  the 
class  of  the  intellectuals,  which  kept  shifting  lower  down 
in  the  social  scale.  The  disintegration  of  the  social 
classes,  which  was  going  on  at  a  rapid  rate,  steadily 
removed  the  intellectuals,  recruited  from  the  upper  social 
layers,  from  solidarity  with  their  own  nobility.  It  was 
evident  to  them  that  Eussia  was  not  to  be  found  charac- 
teristically in  the  privileged  minority,  and  yet  these  men 
must  belong  somewhere.  They  certainly  could  not  ally 
themselves  with  Germany,  from  which  country  chiefly 
proceeded  their  new  philosophical  bias,  since  they  not 
only  differed  from  the  Germans  in  language,  but  more 
especially  in  those  foibles  which,  on  the  one  hand,  ap- 
peared to  them  as  pecuharly  Eussian,  and  which,  on  the 
other,  made  them  look  with  horror  and  contempt  upon 
the  precision  and  methodical  ways  of  their  German  neigh- 
bours. Outside  the  amorphous  nobility  and  the  shifting 
class  of  the  intellectuals  were  the  vast,  uncouth,  unfath- 
omed  masses  of  the  peasant.  Here  alone,  if  anywhere, 
was  the  pith  of  the  Eussian  nation,  the  "people." 

Those  who,  like  Herzen,  keenly  felt  their  obligation  to 
the  West  for  their  enlightenment,  devoted  themselves 
to   the   uphfting    of   the  masses   on    a    European    basis. 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  217 

Though  recognizing  the  inherent  qualities  of  the  Eussian 
peasant,  these  Westerners  thought  it  necessary  to  raise 
them  to  a  higher  level,  to  Europeanize  them.  Others,  the 
Slavophils,  rejected  all  European  admixture  as  foreign 
to  the  Eussian  spirit,  and  devoted  all  their  interest  to 
the  masses,  in  so 'far  as  these  differed  from  themselves 
and  from  the  West.  But  the  Slavophils  made  the  grave 
mistake  of  regarding  Greek  Catholicism  and  autocracy  as 
equally  distinguishing  features  of  Eussia,  and  of  ascribing 
the  same  potency  to  church  and  state  that  they  ascribed 
to  the  people.  Thus  they  inevitably  led  to  retrogression, 
no  matter  how  well-intentioned  they  may  have  been. 
However,  the  fact  remains  that  the  peasants,  the  "  people," 
henceforth  became  the  preoccupation  of  the  intellectuals 
and  the  men  of  letters. 

Tolstoy  was  born  in  1828.  His  first  literary  production 
appeared  in  1852.  Thus  his  youth  fell  in  a  time  when 
the  ferment  of  men's  minds  was  at  its  highest.  The 
aristocratic  circle  to  which  he  belonged  no  longer  was 
the  sole  possessor  of  culture,  for  the  men  of  the  various 
ranks  were  meeting  with  those  from  the  upper  classes  on 
the  same  intellectual  level.  Slavophils  and  Westerners 
were  in  the  heyday  of  their  democratic  transports,  vying 
with  one  another  in  giving  expression  to  their  love  for 
the  masses.  Democracy,  pervading  all  classes  of  society, 
was  clamouring  for  the  emancipation  of  the  serfs.  Men 
were  anxious  to  do  something,  especially  to  improve  the 
condition  of  the  peasants,  but  their  efforts  were  generally 
abortive,  in  consequence  of  the  fatal  national  defects  of 
vacillation  and  aimlessness.  Eevolt,  intellectual  revolt 
at  least,  was  the  dominant  note  of  all  literary  endeavour, 
and  literature  absorbed  the  functions  elsewhere  assumed 
by  political  economy,  philosophy,  religion.  Sucli  was 
the  soil  from  which  the  great  genius  of  Eussia  was  to 
sprout. 


II. 

Many  an  attempt  has  been  made  to  write  a  life  of 
Tolstoy,  but  it  cannot  be  said  that  a  biography  of  the  man 
has  as  yet  been  presented  to  the  reader.  The  facts,  suffi- 
ciently concrete  for  the  first  part  of  the  author's  life,  pale 
by  the  time  maturity  is  reached,  and,  as  years  proceed, 
entirely  fade  away.  The  intenser  the  internal  hfe  becomes, 
the  less  tangible  is  the  relation  of  Tolstoy's  thoughts  to 
the  incidents  in  his  life,  the  less  weight  can  we  ascribe 
to  the  chronology  of  a  brief  three-score  and  ten.  "  The 
law  of  progress,  of  perfectibility,  is  written  in  the  soul  of 
each  man,  and  is  transferred  to  history  only  through 
error,"  says  Tolstoy.  Substitute  man's  material  existence 
for  history,  and  we  get  the  reason  why  biography,  the 
counterpart  of  history,  must  of  necessity  cover  but  a  small 
part  of  the  existence  of  one  living  intensely  the  spiritual 
life. 

Even  for  the  earlier  days  of  his  earthly  career  we  get 
but  few  facts  that  are  not,  in  one  way  or  another, 
contained  in  the  photographic  records  of  his  inner  con- 
sciousness, which,  chastened  by  reflection  and  but  thinly 
disguised,  are  revealed  to  us  in  all  his  writings.  What 
the  author  has  chosen  not  to  present  to  our  gaze  can 
hardly  be  of  importance  to  us,  since  sincerity,  one  of  the 
chief  criterions  apphed  by  him  in  judging  productions  of 
art,  is  not  only  the  keystone  to  his  own  thoughts  and 
utterances,  but  has  so  thoroughly  been  applied  by  him,  in 
his  desire  to  tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing 
but  the  truth,  that  we  should  in  vain  rummage  through 
his  soul  for  additional  data  or  for  any  mental  reservation. 

218 


LEV   N.   TOLSTOY  219 

Tolstdy  is  all  in  his  writiDgs,  and  if  not  one  word  more 
were  heard  from  him  or  about  his  life,  we  should  still 
have  the  whole  man. 

But  such  is  human  frailty  that  the  saintly  life  of  a 
man  generally  leads  to  the  worship  of  his  earthly  relics,  that 
we  adorn  our  habitations  with  the  images  of  those  whose 
spirituality  vivifies  us,  that  we  are  more  concerned  about 
the  carnal  life  of  a  teacher  than  about  his  teachership. 
We  shall  give  our  due  to  this  natural  desire,  mustering 
such  details  as  have  become  known,  but  will  use  this 
material  chiefly  in  order  to  point  out  the  correspondence 
between  the  author's  life  and  his  writings, 

Tolstoy's  ancestors  on  his  father's  side  were  distin- 
guished boyars,  with  rather  shady  political  reputations, 
who  had  taken  part  in  important  affairs  of  state,  and  one 
of  them,  Peter  Andreevich  Tolstoy,  was  made  a  count  by 
Peter  the  Great.  Tolstoy's  grandfather,  Ilya  Andreevich, 
is  depicted  in  War  and  Peace  as  the  elder  Eostov. 
Tolstoy's  father,  Nikolay  Ilich,  of  whom  we  have  a  pen- 
sketch  in  Childhood,  BoyJwod,  and  Youth,  served  through 
the  war  of  1812  and,  after  having  gambled  away  his 
fortune,  married  Marya  Nikolaevna  Volkouski,  described 
as  Princess  Marya  Bolkonski,  in  War  and  Peace.  Four 
sons  were  born  of  the  marriage,  of  whom  Nikolay  was 
the  eldest  and  Lev  the  youngest;  there  was  also  a 
daughter,  Marya,  who  was  one  year  younger  than  Lev. 

Lev  was  born  August  28  (old  style),  1828.  His  mother 
died  when  he  was  but  three  years  old,  and  his  father,  six 
years  later.  Tolstoy  thinks  he  can  recall  some  incidents 
from  that  early  period.  He  has  an  impression  that  he 
was  swaddled  and  that  he  wanted  to  free  himself,  that 
he  felt  the  cruelty  and  the  injustice  of  fate,  that  he  was 
conscious  of  his  own  weakness  and  of  the  strength  ol 
others.  This  was  the  first  and  most  powerful  impression 
of  liis  life.  It  was  only  when  he  was  five  years  old  that 
be  came  to  see  Nature.     About  the  same  time  he  was 


220  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

put  in  charge  of  the  German  tutor,  F^dor  Ivanovich  Edssel, 
who  had  been  instructing  his  elder  brothers,  without, 
however,  being  taken  from  the  care  of  his  "  tall,  plump, 
black-haired,  kindly,  tender,  compassionate"  aunt,  T.  A. 
Ergolski. 

The  family  had  just  settled  in  Moscow,  when  the  father 
died,  and  the  children  were  taken  back  to  Yasnaya 
Polyana,  where  they  grew  up  under  the  guardianship  of 
their  father's  sister,  Countess  A.  I.  Osten-Saken.  In  1840, 
however,  this  aunt  died,  and  the  children  were  taken  to 
Kazan,  to  the  house  of  another  aunt,  P.  I.  Yushkov,  "  a 
pure  soul,"  who  later  on  kept  telling  him  that  she  wished 
nothing  so  much  as  that  he  should  form  a  liaison  with 
a  married  woman,  become  an  adjutant  to  the  emperor,  and 
marry  a  very  rich  girl.  Tolstoy  was  but  ten  years  old 
when  he  became  imbued  with  religious  doubts,  and  soon 
after  he  read  Voltaire.  His  home  instruction  was  carried 
on  under  the  supervision  of  a  French  tutor,  Prosper  St. 
Thomas,  who  remained  with  the  family  until  after  Tolstoy 
had  passed  his  examination  for  the  University  of  Kazan, 
the  Philological  Department  of  which  he  entered  in  the 
year  1843. 

Tolstoy  did  not  devote  himself  much  to  study  at  the 
university,  which  was  partly  due  to  the  fact  that  the  pro- 
fessors were  not  in  the  least  interesting  and  that  they 
were  arbitrary  in  their  judgment  of  the  students'  progress. 
He  twice  failed  in  subjects,  only  because  the  professor  in 
question  happened  to  be  quarrelling  with  members  of  Tol- 
stoy's family.  After  two  years'  desultory  studying,  Tolstoy 
left  the  university  and  returned  to  Yasnaya  Polyana, 
which  was  his  share  of  the  inheritance.  Here  he  devoted 
himself  to  the  uplifting  of  the  peasants,  meeting  with  dis- 
astrous results,  which  are  minutely  described  in  A  Morn- 
ing of  a  Landed  Proprietor.  In  1848  he  went  to  St, 
Petersburg,  where  he  passed  his  candidate's  examination 
at  the  university,  but  he  very  soon  returned  to  Yasnaya 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  221 

Polyana,  bringing  with  him  a  dissipated  German  musician. 
Eudolph  by  name.  With  this  Kudolph  he  devoted  him- 
self to  music,  especially  to  Beethoven. 

For  two  years  Tolstoy  abandoned  himself  with  his 
brother  Sergyey  to  dissipations  of  every  kind,  to  gambhng, 
to  the  chase,  to  music.  Then  his  elder  brother,  Nikolay, 
to  whom  he  was  most  affectionately  attached,  returned 
from  the  Caucasus,  where  he  served  in  the  army.  Niko- 
lay tried  to  persuade  his  brother  to  go  back  to  the  Caucasus 
with  him,  but  Tolstoy  withstood  all  his  blandishments, 
until,  having  in  1851  lost  very  heavily  at  cards,  he  sud- 
denly withdrew  from  his  friends  and  from  society,  and 
buried  himself  in  Pyatigorsk,  in  the  Caucasus,  passing 
most  of  his  time  in  the  company  of  an  Old-believer,  Uncle 
Epishka  (described  as  Eroshka  in  The  Cossacks),  a  famous 
hunter.  He  here  accidentally  fell  in  with  a  great-uncle 
of  his  who  was  adjutant  to  Prince  Baryatinski,  and  who 
persuaded  him  to  enter  the  army  of  the  Caucasus  as  a 
volunteer. 

It  was  here,  in  the  Caucasus,  that  Tolstoy  wrote  his 
first  literary  productions.  Childhood,  Boyhood,  the  first 
chapters  of  Youth,  A  Morning  of  a  Landed  Proprietor, 
and  The  Incursion,  and  sketched  the  plan  for  the  Cossacks. 
On  July  9,  1852,  Tolstoy  sent  his  sketch.  Childhood,  to 
Nekrasov,  who  was  editing  the  Contcmporarij,  and  shortly 
after  that  it  was  published,  although  the  author  received 
no  payment  for  it. 

Such  is  briefly  the  chronological  sequence  of  Tolstoy's 
external  life  from  his  birth  to  the  end  of  his  experi- 
ence in  the  Caucasus.  We  shall  now  scrutinize  the 
author's  inward  hfe,  as  depicted  in  his  writings  of  that 
time. 

The  subtle  influences  that  determine  the  career  of  a 
genius  cannot  be  fathomed,  but  there  are  generally  some 
separate  factors  which  more  than  any  others  seem  to  de- 
termine the  course  which  it  is  likely  to  take.     In   Child- 


222  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

hood,  Boyhood,  and  Youth  we  are  told  that  Nikolay 
Irt^nev,  who  is  obviously  no  other  than  Tolstoy  himself, 
was  awkward  and  homely,  and  that  these  untoward  quali- 
ties were  coupled  with  an  agonizing  supersensitiveness. 
Persons  who  are  so  little  endowed  with  graces  by  Nature 
are  apt  to  keep  their  ego  prominently  before  their  eyes  for 
the  purpose  of  inflicting  torments  upon  themselves.  When, 
in  addition,  we  have  every  reason  to  assume  that  Tolstoy 
came  early  under  the  spell  of  Eousseau,  whom  he  quotes 
several  times,  apparently  as  his  mentor,  we  can  under- 
stand why  he  should  have  launched  into  literature 
with  a  Confession,  which  is  but  a  species  of  self-castiga- 
tion. 

Of  the  three  conditions  for  the  infectiousness  of  art, 
Tolstoy  values  sincerity  as  the  most  important  of  all. 
The  test  wliich  he  would  apply  to  any  production  of  art 
fully  justifies  us  in  classing  his  first  literary  ventures 
as  artistic  productions :  such  is  the  frankness  with  which 
the  child's,  the  boy's,  the  youth's  foibles  are  laid  bare,  so 
true  is  the  by  no  means  faultless  life  of  the  father,  so  touch- 
ing is  the  death  of  the  mother,  that,  although  we  have 
difficulty  in  deciding  whether  it  is  Nikolay  Irt^nev  or 
Dmitri  Nekhlyildov  who  really  represents  the  author  him- 
self, although  Tolstoy  had  barely  a  remembrance  of  his 
father  and  certainly  did  not  have  any  personal  knowledge 
of  his  mother,  we  are  quite  sure  that  he  is  describing 
actual  incidents  from  his  own  life.  This  first  production, 
which  already  contains  in  the  embryo  all  the  artistic 
qualities  and  all  the  personal  defects  of  his  later  writings, 
is  extremely  important  to  the  student  of  the  author's  life 
and  works.  It  is  the  zero  point  on  the  thermometer  of 
his  literary  and  religious  activity. 

Childhood,  Boyhood,  and  Yoiith,  of  which  we  shall  speak 
collectively  as  one  work,  begins  with  the  description  of 
the  tutor,  Karl  Ivano\dch,  the  kindly,  half-educated,  me- 
thodical,  excitable    German,    the  very    antithesis   of  the 


LEY    N.    TOLSTOY  223 

typical  Eussiau.  Here  the  author  simply  falls  in  with 
the  general  dislike  of  the  German,  which  is  not  based  on 
any  race  or  national  animosities,  but  only  on  the  incom- 
patibility of  the  Russian  character  with  that  of  the  neigh- 
bouring country,  so  many  of  whose  citizens  have,  through 
their  employment  in  various  governmental  and  mihtary 
positions,  come  in  contact  with  the  more  mercurial  and 
less  precise  Russians,  whose  sensibihties  they  somehow 
have  managed  to  rouse.  To  no  class  of  foreigners  has 
Tolstoy  devoted  so  much  space  as  to  the  Germans,  and 
there  is  hardly  one  among  these,  no  matter  how  desirable 
their  qualities  must  appear  to  any  one  else,  that  does  not 
irritate  him.  Such  are  Lieutenant  Rosenkranz,  who  "  fre- 
quently spoke  of  his  genealogy  .  .  .  and  proved  conclu- 
sively that  he  and  his  ancestors  had  been  pure  Russians ; " 
and  Staff-Captain  Kraut,  who,  in  spite  of  his  admirable 
character,  had  something  lacking  as  a  man,  and  who, 
"  like  all  Russian  Germans,  in  strange  contradistinction  to 
the  ideal  German  Germans,  was  in  the  highest  degree 
practical ; "  and  boastful  Kraft,  "  who  wants  to  be  a  com- 
rade ; "  and  the  exemplary  Officer  Berg,  who  puts  his 
marriage  to  Vy^ra  Rostov  on  a  strictly  commercial  basis ; 
and  General  Pfuel,  who  is  more  concerned  about  the 
scientific  exactness  of  the  military  operations  than  about 
their  successful  issues.  Nor  was  this  feeling  confined  to 
the  Russian  Germans,  for  at  the  same  time  Tolstoy  did 
not  approve  of  the  German  teachers,  nor  of  German 
methods  in  general.  When  later,  under  the  influence  of 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  he  embraced  all  men  under  the 
general  term  of  "  our  neighbours,"  he  still  found  individual 
Germans  most  unattractive,  and  deserted  Schopenhauer,  to 
whom  he  had  clung  for  so  long  a  time,  declared  Nietzsche 
a  wicked  corrupter  of  morals,  saw  in  Wagner  an  arch 
adulterer  of  art,  and  declared  William  II.  to  be  the  most 
comical  of  all  the  sovereigns. 

Tolstoy's  religiousness  is  by  no  means  the  result  of  a 


224  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

sudden  conversion,  as  he  himself  thought  and  his  critics 
would  make  us  believe,  but  was  inherent  in  his  nature. 
Two  incidents  bear  witness  to  his  early  religious  trend, 
the  experience  with  the  saintly  fool,  and  his  confession. 
The  saintly  fool  is  a  peculiar  Eussian  institution.  Hun- 
dreds of  men  and  women  who  are  half-witted,  or  at  least 
supposed  to  be,  leading  a  vagrant  existence,  without 
home,  or  property,  or  labour,  but  with  an  abundance  of 
simple,  half-superstitious  faith,  march  from  monastery 
to  monastery,  where  there  may  be  holy  relics,  and  now 
and  then  pass  their  time  at  some  estate,  where  they 
frequently  are  hospitably  entertained  by  the  rehgiously 
inclined.  They  seem  to  typify  the  simple  of  faith  of 
whom  the  Gospel  speaks.  The  admiration  expressed  for 
the  simple,  ardent  faith  of  the  saintly  fool,  "  Your  faith 
was  so  strong  that  you  felt  the  nearness  of  God,  your  love 
was  so  great  that  words  flowed  of  their  own  will  from 
your  lips,  and  you  did  not  verify  them  by  reason,"  is  but 
the  youthful  prototype  of  the  later  "  love  of  God."  There 
is  no  difference  in  quality  of  belief,  —  there  is  only  a 
difference  of  maturity.  The  same  religious  fervour  is  dis- 
played in  Nikolay's  preparation  for  the  confession  arid  the 
second  confession,  both  of  which  are  preceded  by  the  com- 
position of  "  Eules  of  Life,"  by  which  to  be  guided  in  his 
daily  conduct.  A  confession  is  a  purging  of  sins,  and 
reacts  powerfully  upon  the  person  confessing,  by  creating 
a  spirit  of  contrition  and  meekness,  —  such  is  Tolstoy's 
earliest  conception  of  this  sacrament,  and  though  in  the 
case  of  Levin  he  had  doubts  about  all  the  externals  of 
the  act,  he  none  the  less  later,  when  he  completely  breaks 
away  from  ecclesiasticism,  speaks  in  Resurrection  with 
emotion  of  the  effect  of  the  confession  on  Katyuslia,  and 
frequently,  in  his  religious  writings,  in  his  diary,  and  in 
his  letters,  dwells  upon  the  necessity  of  a  confession  of 
sins,  not  as  a  truce  with  God,  but  as  a  purging  of  one's 
own  sins.     My   Confession  is  the  logical  sequel  of  that 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  226 

religiousness  which  was  part  of  Tolstoy's  life  in  his  ear- 
liest youth,  and  which  received  an  additional  impetus 
through  his  adherence  to  Rousseau's  theories. 

Next  to  religiousness,  the  love  of  outdoor  life,  and  of 
hunting  especially,  was  Tolstoy's  greatest  passion,  until 
his  humaner  views  on  the  sanctity  of  all  Hfe  put  a  stop 
to  his  favourite  diversion.  Accordingly,  immediately  after 
the  chapter  dealing  with  the  saintly  fool,  we  get  the 
account  of  the  chase.  There  are  few  episodes  which  Tol- 
stoy describes  so  well  as  the  hunt.  Not  only  do  we  in 
such  cases  have  very  spirited  stories  of  the  sport  itself 
and  of  the  dogs,  which  he  describes  with  the  love  of  a 
hunter,  but  we  also  get  some  of  the  best  descriptive  pas- 
sages, for  which  he  is  so  famous.  It  is,  after  all,  not  so 
much  the  sport  itself  that  attracted  him  so  powerfully 
as  the  magnificence  of  Nature,  which  at  the  time  that  the 
chase  is  most  favourable  is  at  the  height  of  its  beauty. 
Even  in  his  first  experience  he  lost  his  game  by  becoming 
all-absorbed  in  the  busy  life  of  the  ants  and  the  flitting 
about  of  a  yellow-winged  butterfly.  In  the  Cossacks,  the 
hunting  scenes  give  him  an  opportunity  to  describe  the 
voluptuous  woods  of  the  Caucasus,  where  even  the  sting- 
ing of  the  innumerable  mosquitoes  becomes  a  pleasure, 
and  it  is  during  one  of  these  hunting  expeditions,  while 
resting  in  the  chase  of  the  stag,  that  he  arrives  at  the  con- 
clusion that  the  highest  good  is  happiness,  and  that  hap- 
piness is  to  be  found  in  love,  in  self-sacrifice,  —  a  theme 
which  later  is  to  form  the  basis  of  his  relation  to  God. 
Whether  inborn  or  fostered  by  Rousseau's  theory,  the  love 
of  Nature  is  his  strongest  passion  after  religion,  and  it  is 
this  love  of  Nature  that  soon  was  to  take  him  away  from 
the  unnatural  conditions  of  a  city  hfe  and  was  to  deter- 
mine his  future  actions. 

Reflections,  however,  crowded  upon  him  at  all  impor- 
tant events  of  life,  and  of  these  there  is  none  upon  which 
he  dwelt  so  constantly  and  so  profoundly  as  upon  death. 


226  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

An  intense  desire  for  life  and  a  fearlessness  of  death  have 
always  been  characteristic  of  Tolstoy,  and  he  has  devoted 
even  more  pains  to  the  depiction  of  scenes  of  death  than 
to  the  portraiture  of  passion,  and  has  produced  three 
stories,  Three  Deaths,  The  Death  of  Ivcin  Ilich,  and  Master 
and  Workman,  which  deal  exclusively  with  various  aspects 
of  death.  In  his  Childhood,  Boyhood,  and  Youth  we  have 
no  less  than  three  deaths,  that  of  the  mother,  the  grand- 
mother, and  Natalya  Savishna.  The  grandmother's  death 
is  merely  mentioned  to  contrast  it  with  the  unrestrained 
merriment  and  the  Homeric  laugh  of  boyhood  in  the  full 
bloom  of  life.  On  the  mother's  death  Tolstoy  lavishes  all 
the  affection  which  he  always  had  in  store  for  a  mother, 
to  him  the  highest  ideal  of  a  woman.  All  the  tenderness, 
devotion,  forgiveness,  which  a  woman  is  capable  of  are 
crowded  into  the  last  letter  written  by  the  mother.  With 
what  minuteness  all  the  conflicting  circumstances  and 
details  are,  with  more  than  usual  faithfulness,  even  on 
account  of  the  acute  pain  produced  by  the  near  demise  of 
the  mother,  brought  before  us  to  accentuate  the  grandeur 
and  importance  of  the  last  moment !  The  closed  door, 
weeping  Mimi,  the  father  walking  on  tiptoe,  the  meaning- 
less face  of  fool  Akim  who  formerly  used  to  amuse  him, 
the  darkened  windows,  Natalya  Savishna  knitting  a  stock- 
ing, la  belle  Flamande,  the  mingled  odour  of  mint,  eau 
de  cologne,  camomile,  and  Hoffmann's  drops,  —  what  a 
wealth  of  simple,  yet  heartrending  circumstances  of  death  ! 
And,  then,  death  itself !  How  attracted  Nikolay  is  to  the 
pale  face,  with  the  black  spot  under  the  transparent  skin, 
on  one  of  her  cheeks,  and  how,  in  the  presence  of  the  life- 
less body,  pleasant  thoughts  and  dreams  take  him  away 
from  reality !  Then  the  single  moment  of  real  grief,  and 
Mimi's  insincere  tears,  and  the  hypocrisy  of  the  consola- 
tions, and  the  one  real  sorrow  of  Natalya  Savishna,  and 
the  terror  evoked  by  her  who  was  once  a  beloved  creature  ! 
What  a  mass  of  finely  observed  facts,  later  in  life  to  be 


LEV   N.   TOLSTOY  227 

leisurely  worked  out  with  even  greater  insistence  on  the 
grandeur  of  the  final  incident  in  the  earthly  life ! 

To  die  properly,  —  that  is  the  great  problem  of  life,  as 
Tolstoy  sees  it.  In  War  and  Peace,  Platdn  Karataev's 
meek  life  and  peaceful  death  have  been  commented  upon 
by  the  critics  as  the  earliest  instance  of  Tolstoy's  glorifica- 
tion of  the  Christian  hfe ;  but  that  is  not  quite  correct : 
the  first  instance  had  abeady  been  given  in  the  life  and 
death  of  Natalya  Savishna,  who,  after  a  life  of  unswerving 
devotion  to  her  mistress,  a  month  before  her  death  her- 
self prepared  all  her  funeral  clothes,  transferred  all  the 
property  in  her  charge  to  the  new  stewardess,  and,  after 
much  suffering,  which  she  bore  with  Christian  patience, 
confessed  her  sins,  begged  everybody's  forgiveness,  and 
"  executed  the  best  and  highest  act  of  this  life,  —  she 
died  without  regrets  or  fear."  Under  the  overpowering 
influence  of  these  two  deaths,  childhood  finds  itself  pro- 
moted to  a  new  stage  of  Hfe,  and  with  death  the  first 
production  fittingly  ends. 

The  fundamental  questions  concerning  religiousness, 
love  of  Nature,  death,  which  form  the  chief  preoccupation 
of  Tolstoy's  maturer  years,  having  been  fully  treated  in 
Childhood,  we  get  in  Boyhood  the  more  worldly  aspects 
of  life ;  but  even  here  are  foreshadowed  his  future  social 
and  educational  ideas.  Here  we  are  told  of  the  first  time 
when  Nikolay  became  aware  of  the  difference  between 
the  rich  and  the  poor,  and  of  the  shame  he  felt  for  being 
rich ;  of  the  terrible  effect  punishment,  infhcted  mali- 
ciously, has  upon  the  mind  of  a  boy ;  of  the  nascent 
sexual  feeling ;  and,  above  all  else,  of  his  tendency  to 
philosophize,  which,  in  later  years,  was  to  imbue  him  with 
the  idea  of  suicide,  and  which  at  this  earliest  period  nearly 
drove  him  insane.  Even  then  he  was  wavering  between 
the  opposite  extremes :  the  highest  good  consisted  either 
in  the  ability  to  bear  sufferings,  or  in  enjoying  the  pres- 
ent and  not  caring  for  the  future.     He  tried  to  penetrate 


228  LEV   N.   TOLSTOY 

the  impenetrable  and  to  solve  the  mystery  of  eternity. 
He  tried  to  "  take  nothingness  by  surimse,"  and,  in  his 
abstract  reasoning,  he  "  fell  into  the  inextricable  circle  of 
the  analysis  of  his  thoughts,"  arriving  at  a  point  when  he 
"  was  thinking  of  thinking  that  he  was  thinking,  and 
reason  was  lost  in  empty  speculation." 

In  Boyhood  we  are  introduced  to  a  character  who  after- 
ward is  frequently  used  by  Tolstoy  as  the  literary  repre- 
sentative of  himself.  This  is  Dmitri  Nekhlyudov.  It  is 
also  clear  that  even  here  Nekhlyudov  is  intended  for  the 
author  himself.  This  doubling  of  Tolstoy  occurs  also  in 
War  and  Peace,  where  both  Pierre  and  Andr^y  Bolkonski 
are  reflections  of  the  author's  own  life.  Tolstoy's  whole 
existence  has  passed  in  a  severe  struggle  between  two 
diametrically  opposed  natures  within  himself :  now  the 
intensely  worldly  man  within  him  gains  supremacy,  and 
his  artistic  temperament  has  full  sway,  and  now  it  is  his 
spiritual  self  that  tries  to  crush  out  the  carnal  man.  It  is 
this  struggle  which  divides  all  his  larger  productions  into 
the  unconsciously  artistic  and  the  consciously  didactic 
parts.  As  his  years  advance  the  spiritual  side  becomes 
more  and  more  accentuated,  though  in  unconscious  mo- 
ments his  artistic,  human  side  breaks  forth  with  daz- 
zling brilHancy,  while  in  his  younger  years  his  human 
side  was  more  in  evidence,  and  gave  rise  to  a  series  of 
artistic  productions.  '  But  even  in  his  earliest  works  this 
struggle  exists,  and  it  is  due  to  this  that  he  consciously 
or  unconsciously  splits  himself  up  into  two  separate  indi- 
viduals. In  Boyhood  and  YotUh  Dmitri  Nekhlyudov 
represents  the  nascent  spiritual,  more  ideal  man  versus 
Nikolay  Irt^nev,  the  more  human  and  material  man. 
Nekhlyudov  completes  Irt^nev,  as  later  the  Bible  was  to 
complete  a  hfe  that  was  under  the  spell  of  Eousseau. 
Under  the  influence  of  Nekhlyudov,  Irt^nev  began  ec- 
statically to  worship  the  ideal  of  virtue  and  dreamed  of 
destroying  all  human  vices  and  misfortunes,  and,  above 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  229 

all,  of  correcting  himself  and  appropriating  to  himself  all 
virtues. 

With  Nekhlyiidov's  friendship  ends  the  Boi/hood,  as, 
indeed,  the  experiences  related  in  Youth  belong  more 
properly  to  the  period  intervening  between  Tolstoy's  ex- 
perience in  the  Caucasus  and  his  settlement  on  his  estate, 
vrhen  the  greater  part  of  the  chapters  were  actually  writ- 
ten down.  Of  the  two  short  stories.  The  Incursion  serves, 
as  it  were,  as  a  sketch  for  his  other  mihtary  stories,  which 
were  to  culminate  in  Sevastopol,  while  A  Morning  of  a 
Landed  Proprietor  deals  with  an  important  incident  in 
Tolstoy's  life,  when  he  for  the  first  time  withdrew  to 
the  country  to  live  the  life  of  a  country  squire  and 
to  devote  all  his  energies  to  the  cause  of  tlie  peasants. 

Here  it  is  Nekhlyiidov  through  whom  the  author 
speaks.  The  story  is  very  characteristic  of  Tolstoy's 
whole  activity  and  is  typical  of  Eussian  conditions.  Tol- 
stoy at  the  age  of  nineteen  conceived  the  idea  of  acting  as 
a  benefactor  to  the  peasants,  and  so  he  set  out  to  bestow 
all  kinds  of  benefactions  on  his  villagers.  This  was  the 
time  when  Eussians  began  to  take  interest  in  the  peasant. 
Turgenev  had  already  written  his  Memoirs  of  a  Hunter, 
and  society  was  divided  into  two  liostile  camps:  there 
were  those  who  saw  in  the  peasant  all  the  Eussian  virtues 
in  an  inchoate  state,  and  those  who  saw  no  salvation 
for  the  degraded,  improvident,  hopelessly  dull  villagers. 
Those  who,  like  Turg(juev,  took  the  lowly  agriculturist 
under  their  wing  found  it  necessary  to  idealize  him,  while 
their  opponents  were  just  as  busy  detracting  from  him 
and  representing  him  as  devoid  of  progressive  tendencies. 
Not  so  Tolstoy.  That  his  ardour  for  his  humble  brothers 
was  at  least  as  strong  as  that  of  his  literary  friends  is 
evidenced  by  the  fact  that,  while  they  preached  a  common 
brotherhood,  Tolstoy  actually  went  among  them,  planned 
a  distribution  of  his  property  to  them,  and  later  for  a 
series  of  years  gave  himself  unreservedly  to  instructing 


230  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

the  peasant  children.  But  with  his  usual  sincerity,  he 
was  unable  to  see  in  the  peasants  the  ideal  painted  by 
those  who  preached  the  emancipation,  nor  the  uncondi- 
tional wretchedness  which  alone  the  adversaries  depicted. 
With  absolute  frankness  he  details  his  attempts  at  reliev- 
ing the  suffering  villagers  by  offering  them  superior  ad- 
vantages, which  they  reject  from  indolence  and  a  sense  of 
conservatism. 

With  a  sickening  feeling  that  all  the  dreams  of  his 
life  were  absurd,  he  walked  home,  only  to  fall  into  new 
reveries,  about  a  woman,  whom,  no  matter  how  enticing, 
he  had  to  discard  for  the  far  more  soothing  ideal,  "  that 
love  and  goodness  were  truth  and  happiness,  and  the  only 
truth  and  possible  happiness  in  the  world,"  and  again  he 
returned  to  the  thought  expressed  by  him  before,  that 
"  love,  self-sacrifice,  —  these  constitute  the  true  happiness 
which  is  independent  of  accident."  From  first  to  last  this 
remains  the  key-note  of  all  his  actions  and  thoughts,  and 
temporary  failures  do  not  reduce  his  zeal,  but  only  urge 
him  on  to  new  endeavours.  And  how  often  he  has  to 
return  to  the  theme  of  pious  desires  to  do  good  to  the 
peasants,  with  the  invariable  inability  to  carry  his  inten- 
tions to  a  happy  issue  !  Pierre,  and  Levin,  and  Nekhlyii- 
dov  in  Besitrrection  all  make  these  abortive  attempts, 
which  are  quite  in  keeping  with  the  dreamy,  well-meant, 
but  aimless  tendencies  of  the  Eussian  character.  To  this 
story,  as  to  all  the  longer  stories  of  Tolstoy,  there  is  really 
no  end,  even  as  there  is  no  end  to  any  event  in  life. 
Eudely  disappointed  in  one  of  his  reveries,  Nekhlyildov 
only  falls  into  another,  dreaming  of  a  free  and  easy  life 
in  the  open,  like  that  of  Ilyushka  the  driver,  and  exclaim- 
ing, "  Why  am  I  not  Ilyushka  ? " 


III. 

The  first  period  of  Tolstoy's  life  closes  with  his  flight 
to  the  Caucasus,  to  escape  from  the  promptings  of  his 
baser  nature  and  from  the  annoying  triteness  of  society. 
"  Kules  of  life  "  and  the  finer  perception  of  Neklilyudov 
did  not  help  him  to  curb  his  uncontrollable  passions.  He 
revolted  against  himself,  and,  instead  of  carrying  his 
spiritual  ideal  to  its  legitimate  issue,  to  which  he  carried 
it  later,  he  rushed  headlong  into  the  whirlpool  of  riotous 
living,  and  at  least  externally  for  a  whole  decade  did 
not  seem  to  differ  from  any  of  the  easy-going,  reckless 
members  of  the  literary  fraternity  of  the  time.  In  the 
Caucasus  he  plunged  into  the  life  of  the  camp,  with  its 
adventures,  drinking  bouts,  festivities,  and  occasional 
hunting  expeditious.  The  military  life  seemed  to  agree 
with  him,  and  when  the  war  broke  out  in  1853  between 
Turkey  and  Russia,  he  hastened  by  the  way  of  Yasnaya 
Polyana  to  Bukarest  and  to  the  Army  of  the  Danube. 
He  was  present  at  the  disaster  at  Silistria,  and  then 
proceeded  over  Jassy  to  the  Crimea,  where  he  joined  the 
besieged  army  in  Sevastopol.  His  place  was  in  the  most 
dangerous  Fourth  Bastion,  and  such  was  his  recklessness 
that,  amidst  the  boom  of  cannon,  he  calmly  composed  his 
Sevastopol  in  December,  and  later,  Sevastopol  in  May  and 
The  Cutting  of  the  Forest. 

The  efi'ect  of  his  sketches  from  Sevastopol  was  tremen- 
dous. Not  only  did  he  at  once  become  known  to  the 
reading  public,  but  even  Nicholas  I.  commanded  that 
"the  life  of  this  young  man  be  guarded."  In  August  of 
the  year   1855  he   led  his   battery  in   the  fight  at  the 

231 


232  LEV  N.   TOLSTOY 

Ch^rnaya,  and  after  the  capitulation  of  Sevastopol  he  was 
sent  as  a  courier  to  St.  Petersburg  to  carry  there  the 
general  report,  which  he  himself  had  been  ordered  to 
compose.  Upon  arriving  in  the  capital  he  stopped  at  the 
house  of  Turg^nev.  The  poet  Fet,  who  after  that  became 
an  intimate  friend  of  Tolstoy,  met  him  there,  and  this  is 
what  he  tells  of  his  first  meeting  with  him. 

"The  next  morning,  as  Zakhar  opened  the  vestibule 
for  me,  I  observed  in  the  corner  a  short  sword  with  an 
Anna  ribbon. 

" '  Whose  short  sword  is  this  ? '  I  asked,  walking  toward 
the  door  of  the  drawing-room. 

"'This  way,  if  you  please,'  Zakhar  said,  half-aloud, 
pointing  to  the  corridor  on  the  left.  *  This  is  the  short 
sword  of  Count  Tolstoy,  who  is  sleeping  in  our  drawing- 
room.     Ivan  Sergy6evich  is  drinking  tea  in  the  study.' 

«  During  the  half-hour  which  I  passed  by  with  Turg^nev 
we  spoke  in  a  subdued  voice,  for  fear  of  waking  the 
sleeping  count. 

" '  He  has  been  acting  like  this  all  the  time,'  Turg^nev 
said,  with  a  smile.  '  He  has  come  back  from  the  battery 
at  Sevastopol,  has  stopped  at  my  rooms,  and  is  painting 
the  town  red:  carousals,  gipsies,  and  cards  the  whole 
night  long ;  and  then,  at  two  o'clock  he  falls  asleep  and 
sleeps  as  one  dead.  I  have  tried  to  hold  him  back,  but 
I  have  given  it  up.'  " 

In  spite  of  the  respect  shown  to  Tolstoy  by  Turg^nev, 
who  esteemed  highly  his  Childhood  and  Boyhood,  there 
were  always  frictions  between  the  two.  Any  false  note 
in  a  man's  expressions,  any  deviation  from  absolute 
sincerity,  was  sure  to  provoke  Tolstoy,  and  with  his 
uncompromising  spirit  he  would  not  let  slip  any  oppor- 
tunity to  give  vent  to  his  irritation.  It  was  only  a  short 
time  after  the  above  incident  that  a  number  of  bachelor 
literati  were  gathered  at  the  house  of  Nekrasov.  Some 
political   question    was   being    discussed,   and    Turg^nev 


LEV  N.  tolst6y  233 

almost  choked  with  anger  at  Tolstoy's  reserved,  but  none 
the  less  stinging,  rebukes. 

" '  I  cannot  admit,'  said  Tolstoy,  '  that  what  you  say  is 
your  conviction.  I  stand  with  a  dagger  or  a  sword  at  the 
door,  saying,  "  So  long  as  I  live  no  one  shall  enter  here." 
What  a  fine  conviction !  What  you  are  trying  to  do  is  to 
conceal  from  one  another  the  essence  of  your  thoughts, 
and  that  you  call  a  conviction.' 

"  *  What  makes  you  come  here  ? '  Turg^nev  said,  choking, 
and  in  a  voice  which  passed  into  a  falsetto  (this  was 
always  the  case  with  him  in  a  dispute).  'This  is  not 
your  camp !     Go  to  Countess  B-y  B-y  ! ' 

" '  Why  need  I  ask  you  where  I  am  to  go  ?  And  idle 
talk  will  not  by  my  going  be  changed  into  convic- 
tions.' " 

Upon  another  occasion  Turg^nev,  beside  himself  with 
excitement,  strutted  through  three  rooms  in  Nekrasov's 
quarters,  exclaiming,  "  I  cannot  stand  this !  I  have 
bronchitis !" 

"Bronchitis,"  Tolstoy  grumbled,  at  his  back,  "is  an 
imaginary  disease.     Bronchitis  is  a  metal !  " 

Turg(5nev  continued  to  strut  through  the  three  rooms, 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  while  Tolstoy  lay  on  a 
morocco  sofa  in  the  middle  room.  To  avert  a  catastrophe, 
Grigorovich,  who  was  present,  went  up  to  Tolstdy  and 
said,  "Dear  Tolstoy,  do  not  feel  so  agitated!  You  do 
not  know  how  he  respects  and  loves  you ! " 

"  I  will  not  permit  him  to  spite  me,"  Tolstoy  replied, 
with  dilated  nostrils.  "  He  is  purposely  walking  past  me 
and  wagging  his  democratic  haunches  ! " 

Outwardly  Tolstoy  at  that  time  completely  suiTcndered 
himself  to  the  life  of  a  society  dandy.  He  wore  a  padded 
overcoat  with  a  gray  beaver  collar,  and  his  long,  dark 
blond  hair  fell  from  underneath  a  natty  hat,  which  he 
wore  dashingly  poised  on  one  side,  and  in  his  hand  he  car- 
ried a  fashionable  cane,  whenever  he  went  out  for  a  walk. 


234  LEV   N.   TOLSTOY 

At  that  time  the  young  society  people  considered  it  the 
right  thing  to  busy  themselves  with  gymnastic  exercises, 
especially  with  jumping  over  a  wooden  horse.  If  a  man 
wanted  to  see  Tolstoy  at  about  two  o'clock,  he  needed 
only  to  go  to  the  gymnasium  on  the  Great  Dmitrovka, 
where  Tolstoy,  dressed  in  tights,  used  to  try  to  jump  over 
the  horse  without  touching  a  wool-stuffed  leathern  cone, 
placed  on  its  back.  In  the  evening  he  generally  donned 
his  dress  suit  and  white  tie,  and  attended  evening  parties 
and  balls. 

This  was  in  the  year  1857.  During  the  same  year  he 
made  his  first  journey  abroad,  stopping  for  a  short  time 
in  Germany,  and  visiting  Paris  and  Switzerland,  where 
his  stay  at  the  Schweizerhof  in  Lucerne  gave  him  the 
material  for  his  sketch  Lucerne.  At  the  end  of  summer 
he  was  back  at  Yasnaya  Polyana,  and  this  is  what  his 
brother  Nikolay  says  of  his  life  at  that  time :  "  Lev  is 
seriously  trying  to  become  acquainted  with  country  life 
and  the  management  of  the  estate,  with  which  he,  like  all 
of  us,  has  so  far  been  only  superficially  acquainted.  I 
have  my  misgivings  about  the  results :  Lev  wants  to  grasp 
everything  at  once,  not  omitting  anything,  not  even  gym- 
nastics. For  this  purpose  he  has  had  a  bar  put  up  in 
front  of  his  study  window.  Of  course,  if  we  put  aside 
the  prejudices,  against  which  he  is  struggling  so  much,  he 
is  right :  gymnastics  does  not  interfere  with  the  manage- 
ment of  the  estate ;  but  the  village  elder  looks  somewhat 
differently  upon  the  matter :  '  I  come  to  the  master  for  an 
order,'  says  he, '  and  he,  hanging  with  one  leg  on  a  pole, 
head  downwards,  and  wearing  his  red  blouse,  keeps  sway- 
ing to  and  fro ;  his  hair  is  flowing  in  the  wind,  his  face  is 
flushed  with  blood,  and  I  stand  and  listen  to  his  com- 
mands and  marvel  at  what  he  is  doing.'  Lev  has  fallen 
in  love  with  the  way  labourer  Yufdn  spreads  his  arms 
while  ploughing.  And  so  Yufan  has  become  for  him  an 
emblem  of  peasant  strength,  something  like  Mikula  Sel- 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  235 

yanino\ach.  He  himself  now  spreads  his  arms,  follows 
the  plough,  and  Yufanizes." 

Literature  at  that  time  gave  him  pleasure,  and  he  en- 
joyed equally  Turgeuev's  prose  and  Fet's  poetry.  "  Tur- 
g^nev  has  gone  to  Winzig,"  he  wrote  to  his  friend  Fet,  "  to 
stay  there  until  August  and  cure  his  bladder.  The  devil 
take  him !  I  am  getting  tired  of  loving  him.  He  will 
not  cure  his  bladder,  but  will  cause  us  a  loss.  And  now, 
good-bye,  dear  friend ;  if  there  is  no  poem  by  the  time  I 
come  to  see  you,  I  will  squeeze  it  out  of  you." 

Yet  aheady  agriculture  was  beginning  to  interest  him 
even  more  than  Hterature,  and  the  two  were  sometimes 
strangely  intertwined.  This  is  what  he  wrote  to 
Fet: 

"  D.AjiLiNG  Uncle  Fet  :  —  Upon  my  word  '  darling,'  and 
I  love  you  terribly,  just  terribly.  That  is  all.  It  is 
stupid  and  a  disgrace  to  write  stories.  To  write  verses  .  .  . 
Do  write  them.  But  it  is  very  agreeable  to  love  a  good 
man.  And  maybe,  contrary  to  my  will  and  conscious- 
ness, it  is  not  I,  but  a  story  which  is  sitting  within  me 
and  has  not  yet  come  to  maturity,  that  is  making  me  love 
you.  At  times  it  so  seems  to  me.  Do  as  you  please,  but 
'twixt  manure  and  hen-bane  something  drives  me  to  go 
and  compose.  It  is  lucky  I  do  not  allow  myself,  and  will 
not  allow  myself,  to  write  as  yet.  I  thank  you  with  all 
my  heart  for  your  trouble  about  the  veterinary,  and  so 
forth.  I  have  found  one  in  Tula,  and  will  begin  the  cure 
at  once.  What  will  come  of  it,  I  do  not  know.  The 
devil  take  them  all,  anyway.  Druzhinin  begs  me,  as  a 
friend,  to  write  a  story.  Keally,  I  want  to  write  one. 
I  will  write  one  just  to  beat  the  band.  The  Shah  of 
Persia  is  smoking  tobacco,  and  I  love  you.  That's  what. 
Jests  aside,  how  about  your  Hafiz  ?  Twist  and  turn  as  I 
may,  the  acme  of  wisdom  and  firmness  for  me  is  only  to 
enjoy  somebody  else's  poetry,  and  not  to  let  my  own  out 


236  LEV   N.   TOLSTOY 

among  people  in  a  monstrous  habiliment,  and  to  sit  down 
myself  and  eat  my  daily  bread.  However,  at  times  I  want 
so  much  to  be  a  great  man,  and  I  feel  so  provoked  because 
that  has  not  yet  come  to  pass !  I  sometimes  even  hasten 
to  get  up  or  finish  my  dinner,  in  order  to  begin.  I  cannot 
tell  all  so-called  foolish  things,  but  it  is  pleasant  to  tell  at 
least  one  to  such  an  uncle  as  you  are,  who  live  by  nothing 
but  so-called  foolish  things.  Send  me  one  most  whole- 
some poem  by  Hafiz,  translated  by  you,  to  me  fair e  vcnir 
I'cmi  ci  la  houcJie,  and  I  will  send  you  a  sample  of  wheat. 
I  am  dreadfully  sick  of  the  chase.  The  weather  is  fine, 
but  I  do  not  go  out  by  myself." 

At  the  end  of  1857  Tolstoy  had  made  a  short  visit  to 
Paris,  and,  except  for  a  few  intervals  at  Moscow,  ever  after 
passed  his  time  at  Yasnaya  Polyana.  Farming  operations 
were  more  and  more  absorbing  his  attention.  He  tried  to 
persuade  Fet  to  purchase  an  estate  near  his  own,  and  in  a 
characteristic  letter  to  him  early  in  the  year  1860  he 
began  by  giving  a  detailed  account  of  the  possible  profits 
from  a  farm  which  he  wanted  Fet  to  buy.  Then  he 
passed  over  to  a  criticism  of  Turg^nev's  latest  productions, 
more  than  ever  finding  fault  with  the  literary  banalities 
of  "  splenetic  and  dyspeptic  "  Turg($nev  ;  then  he  criticized 
Ostrovski's  Storm,  though  he  predicted  a  success  for  it. 
"  Lovers  of  antiques,  to  whom  I,  too,  belong,  are  not  inter- 
fered with  in  their  desire  seriously  to  read  poems  and 
stories  and  seriously  to  talk  about  them.  Now  is  a  differ- 
ent time.  It  is  not  for  us  to  study,  but  to  teach  Marfiitka 
and  Taraska  a  little  of  what  we  know."  The  letter  ends 
with  a  request  for  Fet  to  see  a  German  bookseller  and 
order  some  new  books  for  him,  among  them  also  popular 
books  on  medicine  and  the  veterinary  art,  and  to  get 
for  him  six  Starbuck  ploughs,  and  to  find  out  what  the 
price  of  clover  and  Timothy  seed  was,  since  he  had  some 
for  sale. 


LEY    N.    TOLSTOY  237 

In  June  of  the  same  year  he  wrote  to  Fet  that  he  felt 
quite  despondent,  because  the  estate,  as  it  was  being 
managed,  pressed  heavily  upon  him,  and  because  the  sick- 
ness of  his  brother,  from  whom  he  had  not  yet  heard, 
worried  him  very  much.  This  brother,  Nikolay,  was 
worshipped  by  Lev,  and  Nilvolay  in  his  turn  worshipped 
him.  Nikolay  was  in  every  way  an  admirable  man  and 
was  beloved  by  all  those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact ; 
but  during  his  military  service  in  the  Caucasus  he  had 
acquired  a  taste  for  liquor,  and  this,  combined  with  a  weak 
constitution,  soon  began  to  tell  on  him,  and  when  a  fa- 
mous doctor,  whom  he  consulted,  observed  an  advanced 
stage  of  consumption  in  him,  he  sent  him  to  Soden.  Lev 
Tolstoy,  in  addition  to  these  cares,  felt  also  out  of  sorts, 
because  his  "  bachelor  life,  that  is,  the  absence  of  a  M^fe 
and  the  feeling  that  it  was  getting  late,"  weighed  heavily 
upon  him.  In  the  same  letter  he  advised  Fet  in  the 
purchase  of  an  estate  not  to  be  anxious  to  get  too  much 
land,  telHug  him  that  through  his  bitter  experience  he 
had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  sixty  or  seventy  desya- 
tinas  of  four-field  land  was-  about  as  much  as  a  man  could 
handle.  Later  in  life  he  decided  that  even  this  immensely 
reduced  area  of  land  was  entirely  too  great  to  be  cultivated 
by  one  man. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  month  Lev  started  abroad,  for 
the  purpose  of  finally  joining  his  brother.  He  went  by 
water  to  Stettin,  remained  a  few  days  in  Berlin,  where 
he  visited  some  lectures  at  the  university  and  became 
greatly  interested  in  a  working  men's  society,  in  which  all 
kinds  of  questions  were  freely  discussed  by  the  working 
men,  stopped  a  day  in  Leipsic,  to  visit  the  schools,  which 
were  supposed  to  be  the  best  in  Germany,  in  Dresden 
called  on  Berthold  Auerbach,  from  whose  peasant  stories 
he  had  received  so  much  inspiration,  and  on  July  20th 
reached  Kissingen.  Here  he  fell  in  with  Julius  Frribel, 
the  nephew  of  Friedrich  Frcibel  and  himself  an  educator, 


238  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

and  iu  his  company  he  passed  much  of  his  time,  discussing 
general  questions  of  education.  The  news  that  came  from 
Soden  was  not  encouraging :  Nikolay  was  faiUug  rapidly, 
and  toward  the  end  of  August  Lev  went  to  Sodeu,  to  take 
his  brother  to  Frankfurt,  and  thence  to  the  south,  in  the 
hope  of  prolonging  Nikolay's  life.  In  Hy^res  he  died  in 
Lev's  arms.  This  is  what  Lev  wrote  to  Fet  on  October 
17th: 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  you  already  know  what  has  hap- 
pened :  on  September  20tli,  he  died,  literally  iu  my  arms. 
Nothing  in  my  life  has  made  such  an  impression  upon 
me.  He  was  right  when  he  said  that  there  is  nothing  worse 
than  death.  And  when  you  come  to  think  of  this,  that 
it  is  after  all  the  end  of  everything,  there  is  nothing  worse 
than  hfe.  Why  worry  and  try,  if  from  what  was  NikoMy 
Nikolaevich  Tolstoy  nothing  is  left  for  him  ?  He  did 
not  say  that  he  felt  the  approach  of  death,  but  I  know 
that  he  watched  its  every  step  and  knew  for  certain  what 
was  still  ahead.  A  few  minutes  before  his  death  he 
dozed  off,  and  suddenly  he  awoke  and  in  terror  whis- 
pered :  '  What  is  this  ? '  He  had  seen  it,  —  his  absorption 
into  nothingness.  And  if  he  did  not  find  anything  to 
hold  on  to,  what  shall  I  find  ?  Still  less.  Certainly 
neither  I  nor  any  one  else  will  up  to  the  last  moment 
struggle  with  it  as  he  did.  Two  or  three  days  before  tliat 
I  said  to  him,  '  Some  conveniences  ought  to  be  put  in  your 
room.'  '  No,'  he  said,  '  I  am  feeble,  but  not  so  feeble  as 
you  think,  —  I'll  fight  on.' 

"  Until  the  very  last  moment  he  did  not  give  in,  and 
did  everything  himself,  tried  to  keep  himself  busy,  wrote, 
asked  me  about,  my  writings,  advised  me.  But  it  seemed 
to  me  that  he  was  not  doing  all  that  from  an  inner  im- 
pulse, but  from  principle.  One  thing,  —  Nature,  —  that 
remained  until  the  end.  The  day  before  he  went  to  his 
chamber,  and  there  from  weakness  fell  upon  his  bed,  near 
an  open  window.     When  I  came,  he  said,  with  tears  in 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  239 

his  eyes,  '  How  I  have  been  enjoying  myself  for  a  whole 
hour  ! '  —  From  earth  was  he  taken,  and  to  the  earih  he 
will  return.  One  thing  is  left,  the  dim  hope  that  there, 
in  Xature,  part  of  which  you  become  in  tlie  earth,  some- 
thing will  be  left  and  found.  All  those  who  knew  and 
saw  his  last  moments  say,  '  How  remarkably  calmly 
and  softly  he  died ; '  but  I  know  that  it  was  extremely 
painfully,  because  not  one  sensation  has  escaped  me.  A 
thousand  times  I  said  to  myself,  '  Let  the  dead  bury  the 
dead,'  but  the  strength  which  is  in  us  must  be  used  in 
some  way.  It  is  impossible  to  persuade  a  stone  to  fall  up- 
wards, instead  of  downwards,  whither  it  is  attracted.  It 
is  impossible  to  laugh  at  a  jest  which  has  gi-own  stale. 
It  is  impossible  to  eat  when  you  do  not  feel  like  eating. 
What  is  the  use  of  anything,  if  to-morrow  shall  begin  the 
torments  of  death  with  all  the  abomination  of  the  lie, 
the  self-deception,  and  will  end  in  nothing,  in  a  naught 
for  ourselves.  A  funny  thing.  Be  useful,  be  virtuous 
and  happy  so  long  as  you  are  alive,  people  say  to  one  an- 
other ;  but  you,  and  happiness,  and  virtue,  and  usefulness 
consist  in  truth.  And  the  truth  which  I  have  brought 
away  in  thirty-two  years  is  tliis,  that  the  condition  in 
which  we  are  placed  is  terrible.  '  Take  hfe  as  it  is ;  you 
have  placed  yourself  in  this  position.'  Indeed !  I  take 
life  as  it  is.  As  soon  as  man  shall  have  reached  the 
highest  degree  of  development,  he  will  see  clearly  that 
everything  is  confusion  and  deception,  and  that  the  truth, 
which  he  none  the  less  loves  more  than  anything  else,  is 
terrible.  When  you  see  it  well  and  clearly,  you  will  come 
to  your  senses  and  you  will  say  in  terror,  as  my  brother 
said,  '  What  is  this  ? '  But,  of  course,  so  long  as  tliere  is 
any  desire  to  know  and  speak  the  truth,  you  try  to  know 
and  speak.  This  is  all  that  is  left  to,  me  from  the  moral 
world,  above  which  I  cannot  rise.  This  alone  will  I  do, 
but  only  not  in  the  form  of  your  art.  Art  is  a  lie,  and  T 
can  no  longer  lov^  a  beautiful  lie  —  I  will  pass  the  winter 


240  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

here,  for  the  reason  that  it  makes  no  difference  where 
one  hves." 

It  was  the  death  of  the  mother  and  of  Natalya  Savishna 
that  closed  up  the  period  of  Irtt^nev's  boyhood,  and  served 
as  the  turning-point  for  a  new  stage  of  hfe.  So,  too,  the 
death  of  Nikolay  served  Tolstoy  as  a  turning-point  in  his 
frivolous  society  life.  In  his  Confession  he  tells  us  how 
during  this  decade  he  committed  every  crime  in  the  cal- 
endar, and  yet  was  regarded  by  all  as  a  comparatively 
moral  man.  At  that  time  he  wrote  through  vanity  and 
tried  to  conceal  the  better  promptings  in  himself.  When 
he  returned  from  the  war,  he  was  accepted  by  the  literary 
men  as  their  own,  was  flattered  by  them,  and  was  fur- 
nished with  a  theory  to  justify  the  looseness  of  his  morals. 
"  Faith  in  the  meaning  of  poetry  and  in  progress  in  life 
was  a  creed,  and  I  was  one  of  its  priests."  Soon,  however, 
he  lost  this  faith  and,  observing  the  priests  more  closely, 
came  to  the  conclusion  tliat  the  literary  men  actually 
stood  lower  than  his  former  riotous  companions.  He  did 
not  lose  faith  in  his  own  worth,  and  continued  to  teach, 
not  knowing  what.  His  sojourn  in  Europe,  where  he 
associated  with  prominent  scholars,  confirmed  him -in  his 
faith  in  perfection,  in  progress.  An  execution,  which  he 
witnessed  in  Paris,  and  the  death  of  his  brother  "Nikolay, 
shook  his  faith  in  the  infallibility  of  progress.  Such  is 
Tolstoy's  retrospective  view  on  the  state  of  his  mind  for 
the  period  preceding  his  settlement  in  Yasnaya  Polyana 
and  his  marriage. 

Though  in  the  main  this  confession  represents  the 
author's  feelings  during  that  time,  the  more  than  twenty 
years  that  had  elapsed  since  the  decade  of  transition, 
coupled  with  a  strong  religious  self-chastisement,  materi- 
ally modified  the  current  sentiments  of  the  author.  For 
these  we  must  go,  not  to  his  Confession,  but  to  his  own 
writings  covering  that  period.  Of  these  stories,  about  one- 
half  deal  with   mihtary   experiences   and  were    written 


LEY  N,  tolst6t  241 

down  almost  simultaneously  with  the  occurrences  described 
in  them ;  but  The  Cossacks,  though  conceived  in  1852, 
was  finished  in  18G1,  and  thus,  to  some  extent,  reflects 
later  experiences.  Both  the  mihtary  sketches  and  the 
other  stories  show  that  as  regards  workmanship  he  really 
came  under  the  sway  of  the  literary  clique.  Few  of  the 
later  productions  show  such  exquisite  balancing,  such  deli- 
cacy of  language,  such  rhythmical  motion  as,  for  example, 
Sevastopol,  TJie  Cossacks,  The  Snow-storm,  Lucerne,  Three 
Deaths,  and,  though  in  Tolstoy  it  is  never  possible  to 
detect  any  direct  obligations  and  imitations,  on  account  of 
the  originality  and  power  of  his  own  genius,  Tolst6y  was 
to  some  extent  affected  by  Turg^nev's  manner  when  he 
wrote  Tlirce  Deaths,  and  Albert  belongs  to  the  same  class 
of  stories  as  those  by  Hoffmann  or  by  Poe. 

Outside  of  this  purely  technical  influence  we  fail  to 
observe  any  correspondence  between  the  author's  external 
conduct  and  his  inward  life,  that  is,  while  his  spiritual 
existence  proceeded  on  the  same  lines  as  laid  do'^'u  in  his 
first  productions  and  clearly  represented  an  evolution 
toward  his  later  world-conception,  his  outward  ways,  his 
dandyism,  his  belief  in  progress,  his  faith  in  literature  and 
in  his  own  mission,  were  never  more  than  skin-deep 
and  never  formed  a  part  of  his  real  self. 

Sevastopol  in  December,  with  its  realistic  description  of 
the  apparently  peaceful,  though  busy  city,  the  horrors 
of  the  hospital,  the  simple  courage  of  the  soldiers,  is  not 
intended  as  a  glorification  of  carnage,  but  as  an  object- 
lesson  in  the  inhumanity  of  war.  In  Sevastopol  in  De- 
cember, the  playing  of  the  regimental  music,  the  thoughts 
of  love,  the  hope  of  advancement  expressed  by  Staff- 
Captain  Mikhaylov,  introduce  us  to  more  peaceful  scenes 
than  we  are  soon  to  hear  of ;  and  again  the  author  tells 
us  of  the  "  vanity  on  the  brink  of  the  grave  "  and  declares 
that  "  the  literature  of  our  age  is  only  an  endless  story  of 
snobs  and  vanity."     This  is  surely  in  direct  contrast  with 


242  LEY   N.   TOLSTOY 

the  aristocratic  mannerism  which  he  then  seemed  U 
assume  and  of  which  he  has  been  accused  even  in  his  old 
age.  He  delights  in  contrasting  the  soldiers'  courage 
with  the  pusillanimity  of  the  officers,  and  puts  to  shame 
Prince  Galtsin's  suspicious  by  the  simple  recital  of  the 
wounded  soldier  who  was  taking  to  the  ambulance  a 
more  seriously  wounded  comrade.  The  officers  are  either 
in  deadly  fear  of  being  killed,  as  was  the  case  with 
Mikhaylov,  or  they  are  downright  cowards,  like  Praskii- 
khin,  or  braggarts,  like  Pest.  The  motives  of  those  who 
take  part  in  war  are  low  and  contemptible :  "  every  one 
of  them  is  a  Napoleon  in  miniature,  a  monster  in  minia- 
ture, and  forthwith  ready  to  start  a  battle,  to  kill  a 
hundred  people,  merely  to  get  an  additional  star,  or  one- 
third  additional  pay."  In  sharp  contrast  with  the  officers, 
the  soldiers,  both  the  Russian  and  the  French,  amicably 
converse  and  exchange  jests  during  the  truce.  Can  any 
one  doubt  that  Tolstoy's  abhorrence  of  war,  though  he 
himself  was  then  taking  part  in  it,  was  then  as  sincere 
and  complete  as  at  any  subsequent  time,  when  one  reads 
the  closing  lines  where  he  invokes  men  in  the  name  of 
Christianity  to  stop  killing  one  another  ?  Sevastopol  in 
August,  which,  with  its  sad  story  of  the  brothers  Kozel- 
tsov,  the  detailed  account  of  the  life  in  the  bastions,  the 
depressing  narration  of  the  evacuation  of  the  city,  is  more 
complete  than  the  previous  two  sketches,  only  heightens 
the  horror  and  tragedy  of  war. 

In  The  Cutting  of  the  Forest  we  again  have  the  two 
contrasting  divisions,  the  soldiers  and  the  officers.  For 
the  first  we  get  a  minute  classification,  such  as  Tolstoy 
becomes  more  and  more  addicted  to,  of  the  various  kinds 
of  soldiers  that  are  found  in  the  Russian  army.  Of  these, 
"  the  commonest  type  is  a  gentle,  sympathetic  type,  which 
unites  the  best  Christian  virtues,  meekness,  piety,  pa- 
tience, and  submission  to  the  will  of  God."  Is  not  that 
an  elaboration  of  the  character  of  Natalya  Savishna,  and 


LEV   N.   TOLSTOY  243 

a  generalization  of  Platdn  Karataev  in  War  and  Peace  ? 
With  what  love  and  artlessuess  the  author  depicts  the 
"  busily  submissive  Veleuchiik,"  and  the  "  sagacious  com- 
mander," Maksimov,  and  the  joker  Chikiu,  and  simple- 
hearted  Autouov,  whose  artless  exclamation,  as  the  ball 
fell  within  a  short  distance  from  his  legs,  put  to  shame 
the  officers'  endeavours  to  appear  cool  and  unconcerned ! 
And  again  it  is  the  soldier  Velenchiik,  whose  "last 
minutes  were  as  clear  and  tranquil  as  all  his  life." 

The  types  of  the  officers,  however,  are  again  far  from 
attractive:  we  have  honest  Bolkhov,  who  is  ready  to 
acknowledge  his  inability  to  take  part  in  war,  —  his 
cowardice,  —  but  who  stays  in  the  army,  in  order  to  gain 
a  decoration  and  a  majorship,  the  prerequisites  of  one  re- 
turning from  the  service  in  the  Caucasus ;  and  Tros^nko, 
who  has  served  so  long  in  the  Caucasus  that  he  has  no 
other  family  than  his  military  company,  and  no  other 
home  than  his  camp;  and  lying  Kraft,  —  "a  German 
who  wants  to  be  a  good  comrade."  How  much  more 
charming  is  the  final  scene,  when  the  soldiers  were 
assembled  at  the  camp-fire  and  after  the  tattoo  the  har- 
monious chorus  of  male  voices  amid  the  deep  hush  of  the 
night  said  the  Lord's  Prayer;  and  the  foot-soldier  told 
of  his  experience  at  Dargi ;  and  Zhdanov,  without  the 
slightest  idea  of  boasting,  explained  the  necessity  of  his 
reenhsting  in  the  army,  in  order  not  to  interfere  with 
his  brothers,  from  whom  he  had  not  heard  for  many 
years ;  and  Antonov  sang  a  melancholy  song,  causing 
tears  to  appear  on  Zhdanov's  face. 

A  Moscow  Acquaintance  at  the  Front  is  merely  an 
incident  in  the  military  life  of  the  Caucasus,  which  gives 
the  author  an  opportunity  to  describe  a  profligate,  fawning, 
dissipated  scion  of  Moscow  aristocracy.  If  there  is  any 
truth  in  the  statement  that  Tolstoy  then  displayed  a 
certain  snobbery,  it  is  evident  that  this  aristocratic  pecu- 
liarity was  not  directed  against  those  who  stood  far  below 


244  LEV   N.   TOLSTOY 

him  in  the  social  scale,  but  against  those  whom  he 
designated  as  aristocrats  and  whom  he  never  could  bear. 
At  the  same  time  he  was  conscious  of  his  own  failings, 
of  his  inabihty  to  control  his  passions,  especially  the 
passion  for  gambling,  and  this  weakness  apparently 
affected  him  to  the  extent  of  making  him  familiar 
with  the  thought  of  suicide.  This  state  of  his  mind  he 
transferred  to  Prince  Nekhlyiidov  in  the  Memoirs  of  a 
Marker.  Neklilyudov  thought  with  regret  of  the  days 
when  his  childlike,  genuine  feelings  had  discovered  the 
right  path  and  had  been  kindled  to  a  gentle  heat  by 
the  objectless  power  of  love;  but  he  lacked  strength  to 
extricate  himself  from  the  slough  into  which  he  was 
sinking,  and  he  was  assailed  by  the  thoughts  of  suicide. 
All  that  agrees  completely  with  what,  to  judge  from  his 
other  productions  of  about  that  time,  must  have  been 
Tolstoy's  mental  condition. 

In  Albert  the  author  has  depicted  the  dissipated 
musician,  Paidolph,  whom  he  had  brought  with  him  from 
Moscow.  In  spite  of  Albert's  insuperable  passion  for 
liquor,  his  ingratitude,  his  cliildishness,  Del^sov,  who  is 
no  other  than  Tolstoy,  has  only  pity  for  him,  for,  '•'  What 
business  have  I  to  mend  others,  when  I  ought  to  be 
thankful  to  God  if  I  were  able  to  get  myself  straightened 
out?"  Tolstoy's  faith  in  human  nature  and  sympathy 
even  for  a  criminal  is  nowhere  expressed  with  greater 
emphasis  than  in  PoUMshka,  where  the  thief  Polikiishka 
is  entrusted  with  a  sum  of  money,  the  loss  of  which 
causes  him  to  commit  suicide.  The  admirable  sketch, 
The  Snow-storm,  is  the  only  one  of  that  period  which  is 
entirely  devoid  of  any  didactic  purpose.  It  relates  an 
experience  in  the  Territory  of  the  Don  Cossacks,  when 
the  author  lost  his  way  in  a  blinding  snow-storm.  The 
intermingling  of  a  dream  with  reality  and  the  remarkable 
psychological  analysis  of  the  dream  itself  are  themes  to 
which  he   frequently  returns  in  his  later  works.     The 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  245 

incident  of  the  snow-storm  itself  was  afterward  used  by 
him  as  a  background  in  Master  and  Workman. 

The  Two  Hussars  and  Lucerne  form  a  group  by  them- 
selves, in  that  they  deal  with  the  reverse  sides  of  modern 
civilization.  In  the  Tico  Hussars  there  are  contrasted 
the  riotous,  swearing,  reckless,  but  at  the  same  time 
generous,  chivalrous,  whole-hearted  military  men  of  the 
older  generation,  and  the  refined,  talented,  decent,  but 
mean,  hard-hearted,  and  unprincipled  men  of  the  middle 
of  the  nineteenth  century.  The  elder  Tiirbiu  is  given  to 
drunkenness,  beats  his  servant,  passes  his  evenings  with 
gipsy  maids,  but  at  the  same  time  he  robs  the  gambler  of 
the  money,  in  order  to  give  it  to  the  poor  officer  from 
whom  he  has  won  it,  and  who  otherwise  would  have 
blown  out  his  brains,  and  acts  gallantly  toward  the 
fair  widow,  whom  he  kisses,  before  she  has  opened  her 
eyes  from  her  sleep,  to  see  who  the  intruder  is.  The 
younger  Tiirbin,  on  the  contrary,  is  a  model  officer,  but 
he  unscrupulously  wins  the  money  from  the  same  simple, 
unsuspecting  widow  and,  while  he  enjoys  her  hospitality, 
tries  to  seduce  her  daughter.  Tolstoy  could  much  more 
readily  put  up  with  outward  coarseness  than  with  insin- 
cere unconscionable  refinement.  That  was  the  very 
characteristic  that  he  observed  in  the  case  of  the  cultured 
Englishmen,  the  guests  of  the  Schweizerhof  in  Lucerne, 
who  did  not  give  as  much  as  a  penny  to  a  poor  itinerant 
Tyrolese  singer,  and  even  laughed  at  him,  though  they 
had  been  willing  to  listen  to  his  singing.  It  roused 
Tolstoy  to  the  highest  pitch  of  indignation  against  that 
sham  which  is  called  civilization.  Tolstoy  is  not  easily 
deceived  by  words :  civilization,  freedom,  equality,  mean 
nothing  to  him,  if  people  who  profess  these  have  "  no 
heartfelt  human  feeling  for  a  personal  good  act."  He 
objects  to  civilization,  because  "the  impeccable,  blissful 
voice  of  the  Universal  Spirit  is  drowned  by  the  boisterous, 
hasty  development  of  civilization."     Here  we  have   the 


246  *         LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

succinct  expression  of  all  his  future  creed,  —  his  detesta- 
tion for  the  hypocrisy  of  society,  his  critical  attitude 
toward  civilization  and  progress,  his  positing  of  religion  as 
the  foundation  of  morality.  And  again  he  turns  away 
from  the  heartless  crowd  of  refined  people  to  the  simple 
singer,  sitting  somewhere  on  a  threshold  and  singing  amid 
the  soft,  fragrant  night,  and  "  in  his  heart  there  is  no 
reproach,  no  malice,  no  regret."  And  thus  even  the 
foreign  Tyrolese  swells  the  long  catalogue  of  the  simple 
of  faith  and  poor  in  spirit  who,  like  Natalya  Savishna, 
the  soldier  Zhdanov,  Platon  Karataev,  shall  inherit  the 
kingdom  of  God.  So,  too,  in  Tlirec  Deaths,  the  quiet 
death  of  Uncle  F^dor,  who  in  his  last  moments  gives 
away  his  boots  to  driver  Ser^ga  and  is  anxious  not  to 
disturb  any  one,  is  sharply  contrasted  with  the  death 
of  the  peevish,  recriminating  society  woman. 

Youth,  though  dealing  reminisce  ntly  with  an  earlier 
period,  was  finished  in  the  same  year  as  Lucerne,  and  so 
reflects  both  the  earlier  and  later  transitional  stage  of  the 
author's  life.  The  ardent  desire  to  apply  virtuous  ideas 
to  life,  the  strong  religious  feeling  and  the  earnestness 
during  the  confession,  the  absurdity  of  the  system  of 
university  examinations  and  the  petty  despotism  of  the 
professors,  themes  which  he  has  touched  upon  before, 
here  become  the  subjects  of  special  discussions.  Irtenev's 
great  friendship  for  the  morally  superior  Nekhlyildov  is 
the  old  striving  after  greater  perfection.  In  the  classifica- 
tion of  love  into  fair,  self-sacrificing,  and  active,  of  which 
the  latter  most  unselfish  sentiment  is  placed  higher  than 
any  other,  we  have  the  incipient  concept  of  love,  not  as 
an  exclusive  sentiment  for  a  certain  individual,  but  as  an 
all-absorbing  feeling,  which  is  in  no  way  confined  to  any 
person.  Tolstoy's  early  aversion  to  society  is  treated  in 
a  number  of  chapters,  and  from  the  manner  in  which 
he  speaks  of  acquiring  a  habit  of  drinking  and  smoking,  in 
order  to  appear  as  a  grown  person,  he  shows  that  hi.; 


LEV   N.   TOLSTOY  247 

heart  never  was  with  any  of  the  dissipations  which,  in 
the  weakness  of  his  character,  he  practised  at  the  time. 
Nor  did  that  external  decency,  known  as  comme  il  faiU, 
ever  seriously  afi'ect  him.     It  lived  in  him  at  the  time 
when  he  wrote  of  it  as  a  reminiscence  of  a  brief  fatuous 
aberration.      Even  during  his  university  career,  Irtenev 
had  opportunities  to  become  acquainted  with  men  who 
did  not  belong  to  the  comme  il  faut  circle,  whose  genuine 
worth,  in  spite  of  their  rough  exterior,  inspired  him  with 
respect,  and  he  soon   came  to  the  conclusion  that  his 
acquaintance  with  Prince  So-and-so,  his  pronunciation  of 
French,  his  linen  shirt,  his  manicured  nails,  were  but  trifles 
in  comparison  with  their  earnest  and  persistent  endeavours. 
Youth  was  never  completed,  and  we  have  no  autobio- 
graphical record  for  the  years  intervening  between  Tol- 
stoy's university  career  and  his  sojourn  in  the  Caucasus, 
except   A   Morning   of  a   Landed'  Proprietor,  analyzed 
above.     Of  the  stories  dealing  with  the  Caucasus  none 
equals  the  power  of    Tlie   Cossacks   in  portraying    that 
storm-and-stress  period,  during  which  the  author's  mind 
wavered  between  the  life  of  an  artist  and  that  of  a  sternly 
moralizing  philosopher,  between  activity  and  indolence, 
when  every  effort  in  any  direction  caused  him  to  tear 
himself  away  from  the  effort  in  order  to  regain  his  hberty, 
when  he  gave  up  "  his  service,  farming,  music,  to  which 
he  thought  at  one  time  of  devoting  himself,  and  even  love 
of  women,  in  which  he  did  not  believe."     Ol^nin,  that  is 
Tolstoy,  turns  his  back  on  Moscow,  in  order  to  begin  in 
the  Caucasus  a  new  life,  in  which  there  shall  be  none  of 
those  blunders,  and  no  remorse,  and  in  which  he  certainly 
will  be  ha]3py.     Everything  combined  to  make  TJie  Cos- 
sacks the  most  perfect  artistic  work  produced  by  Tolstoy : 
it  was  conceived  during  the  time  when  he  submitted  most 
to  the  influence  of  a  literary  tradition,  it  is  preeminently 
autobiographical  and  sincere,  it  deals  with  incidents  in  a 
country  from  which  the  halo  of  romanticism  had  not  yet 


248  LEV   N.   TOLSTOY 

been  entirely  lifted,  it  gave  the  author  occasion  to  revel 
in  Rousseauan  naturalism  and  primitive  simplicity,  and 
was  brought  to  a  conclusion  at  a  time  when  his  contempt 
for  modern  civiliaation  had  reached  its  highest  point, 
from  which  it  was  never  again  to  recede  to  a  less  vigorous 
arraignment. 

01<^nin,  tired  of  the  vapidity  of  society  life  and  of  his 
dissipation  at  the  gaming-table,  left  Moscow  for  the 
Caucasus.  Not  until  he  reached  the  region  where  he 
found  simple  people,  with  whom  he  could  make  simple 
jokes,  and  saw  the  mountains  in  all  their  grandeur,  did 
he  feel  at  ease.  The  Cossacks  charmed  him  :  their  natu- 
ralness was  in  marked  contrast  to  the  artificiality  of 
the  society  he  had  left  behind  him.  Their  very  vices 
were  more  acceptable  to  him  than  those  practised  among 
the  so-called  refined  people.  The  thieving,  drunkenness, 
lax  sexual  relations,  which  he  found  among  the  Cossacks, 
did  not  offend  him,  because  all  that  was  done  frankly,  with- 
out any  of  that  concealment  and  simpering,  which  in  more 
civilized  centres  make  up  a  hypocritical  system  of  out- 
ward decency.  He  could  without  hesitation  form  a  sin- 
cere friendship  with  Eroshka,  arch-thief,  arch-hunter,  and 
naturalistic  philosopher.  Eroshka  lived  on  such  intimate 
terms  with  Nature  that  he  could  tell  the  time  of  the 
night  by  the  noise  made  by  the  birds,  and  knew  what 
the  wild  sow  was  announcing  to  her  young  ones ;  he  was 
compassionate,  not  only  to  men,  but  also  to  animals,  and 
would  not  let  even  a  moth  burn  her  wings ;  he  knew  no 
distinction  between  Tartar,  and  Armenian,  and  Russian 
soldier,  and  Cossack ;  he  loved,  and  drank,  and  stole, 
conscious  of  no  sin ;  his  philosophy  did  not  extend  be- 
yond the  grave,  upon  which  the  grass  would  grow  out,  to 
mark  the  end.  This  Eroshka  is  no  other  than  Olt^nin- 
Tolstoy  in  the  moment  of  his  most  acute  revolt  against 
society.  Abstract  the  elemental  vices  of  the  Cossack  sur- 
roundings, and  what  we  get  is  the  same  unbounded  love 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  249 

of  Nature  and  intimacy  with  it,  the  same  universal  pity, 
the  same  brotherhood  of  man,  the  same  correspondence  of 
a  man's  outer  acts  with  the  dictates  of  his  conscience, 
the  same  opposition  to  what  "  the  chanters  say,"  which 
characterizes  Tolstoy's  later  activity. 

Eroshka's  philosophy  is  food  for  Ol^niu's  thoughts :  from 
Erdshka's  statements  he  deduces  the  fact  that  "  the  desire 
for  happiness  is  inborn  in  man ;  consequently  it  is  legiti- 
mate." Happiness,  he  continued  to  reason,  consists  in 
love,  in  self-sacrifice,  in  living  for  others.  And  so  we 
come  back  to  the  fundamental  note  of  Tolstoy's  philos- 
ophy. Oleuin  felt  that  "he  could  not  live  entirely 
Erdshka's  life,  because  his  happiness  was  of  a  differ- 
ent nature,  —  he  was  restrained  by  the  thought  that 
happiness  consisted  in  self-renunciation."  The  doubling 
of  Tolstoy  as  Eroshka  and  01(^nin  is  the  same  as  that 
in  the  case  of  Irtenev  and  Nekhlyudov,  except  that  now 
it  represents  the  more  vigorous  struggle  of  youth.  Then 
Maryanka,  the  "  majestic  woman  in  her  pristine  beauty, 
as  the  first  woman  must  have  issued  from  the  hands 
of  the  Creator,"  crossed  his  path,  and  he  fell  in  love 
with  her,  and  for  a  moment  it  seemed  to  him  that 
the  self-renunciation  which  had  been  uppermost  in  his 
mind  was  only  a  refuge  against  love.  For  a  moment  he 
wavered  and  was  ready  to  cast  his  philosophy  to  the 
winds,  but  Maryanka  rejected  him,  and  the  episode  of  a 
momentary  weakness  came  to  an  end. 

It  has  been  remarked  that  Tolstoy  never  experienced 
that  romantic  sensation  of  love  of  which  the  novelists 
prate.  That  accusation  is  certainly  just :  the  young 
women  who  fall  in  love  are  by  him  always  represented 
as  carried  away  by  a  momentary  infatuation ;  they  are 
unable  for  any  length  of  time,  in  the  absence  of  their 
fiances,  to  devote  their  love  to  those  to  whom  they  are 
betrothed,  and  invarialjly  bestow  their  hearts  upon  unde- 
serving persons.    However,  he  does  not  mean  to  represent 


250  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

them  as  fickle,  but  wants  to  point  out  the  inferiority  and 
inconstancy  of  the  mere  sexual  instinct,  which  is  not 
permanently  directed  upon  one  person,  and  substitutes 
for  this  uncertain  sentiment  called  love  the  far  more  en- 
nobling feeling  of  motherhood.  '  So,  too,  the  mere  sexual 
love  for  a  woman  is  by  a  man  to  be  kept  in  abeyance  for 
the  greater  love  of  woman  as  a  mother.  Tbis  conception 
is  for  the  first  time  uttered  with  full  force  in  Dornestic 
Hap2'>i'^'^c.ss.  The  plot  of  the  story,  is,  of  course,  a  novel- 
istic  reproduction  of  Tolstoy's  own  experience,  not  actual 
but  potential,  in  that  he  later  married  a  woman  many 
years  younger  than  himself.  Sergy(5y  Mikbaylych  is  the 
same  Olenin-Tolstoy,  who  has  tasted  all  the  bitterness  of 
what  is  called  life,  but  Masha  is  after  her  marriage  made 
to  demand  what  she  thinks  to  be  the  broader  life  of  the 
city,  and  so  the  two  repair  to  the  capital  and  abroad,  and 
Masha  lives  in  a  whirl  of  worldly  pleasures,  to  come  out 
chastened  and  return  with  Sergyey  Mikbaylych  to  the 
country,  to  live  in  the  bosom  of  Nature.  To  Masha's 
question  why,  if  he  had  loved  her,  he  had  allowed  her  for 
so  many  years  to  live  in  a  society  of  shams,  he  says : 
"All  of  us,  but  especially  you  women,  must  in  person  live 
through  all  the  nonsense  of  life  in  order  to  return  to  life 
itself."  A  new  life  began  for  Masha,  but  "  the  old  senti- 
ment became  a  precious,  irretrievable  reminiscence,  and  a 
new  feeling  of  love  for  tbe  children,  and  for  tbe  father  of 
the  children,  laid  the  foundation  for  another,  an  entirely 
different  and  happy  life." 


IV. 

After  the  death  of  his  brother,  Tolstoy  passed  another 
six  months  in  the  West.  After  visiting  Italy  he  went 
by  way  of  Marseilles  to  Paris,  everywhere  observing  the 
common  people  and  studying  the  conditions  of  popular 
education.  From  Paris  he  ran  over  to  London,  where  he 
was  fortunate  enough  to  hear  Lord  Palmerstou  deliver  a 
three-hour  speech  in  the  parhament.  He  went  home  by 
way  of  Brussels,  where  he  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Proudhon  and  the  Polish  historian  Lelewel,  stopped  at 
Weimar,  where  he  investigated  the  Frobel  kindergartens, 
once  more  called  on  Berthold  Auerbach  in  Dresden,  went 
to  Berlin,  w^here  he  met  Diesterweg,  and  from  there  back  to 
Eussia.  After  a  brief  stay  in  St.  Petersburg,  he  went  on 
May  10th  to  Yasnaya  Polyana,  two  days  later  petitioned 
the  government  to  be  permitted  to  open  a  school  for  the 
peasant  children,  and  took  an  active  part  in  the  allotment 
of  land  to  the  newly  emancipated  peasantry,  in  the  capac- 
ity of  mediator  of  the  peace,  an  office  established  by  the 
government  for  the  adjustment  of  the  land  question. 

It  was  soon  after  his  return  to  Yasnaya  Polyana  that 
a  rupture  took  place  between  him  and  Turgenev.  It 
happened  under  the  following  circumstances.  Pet,  fol- 
lowing Tolstoy's  advice,  had  bought  the  estate  of  Step^- 
novka,  which  was  but  a  short  distance  away  from  Yasnaya 
Polyana.  Turgenev  and  Tolstoy  were  invited  to  pass  a 
few  days  with  Fet.  On  the  second  morning  of  their 
visit,  the  company  was  assembled  at  the  tea-table,  and 
during  the  conversation  which  ensued,  Fet's  wife  asked 
Turgenev  whether  he  was  satisfied  with  his  English  gov- 

251 


252  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

erness,  to  whom  he  had  entrusted  the  ediiCcation  of  his 
daughter.  Turg^nev  showered  praises  on  the  governess, 
and  among  other  things  said  that  she  had  with  English 
punctuality  asked  him  to  determine  the  precise  sum 
which  he  wished  to  put  into  the  hands  of  his  daugliter 
for  charitable  purposes.  Fet  reports  the  subsequent 
event  as  follows : 

" '  Now/  said  Turg^nev,  'the  governess  wants  my  daugh- 
ter to  take  poor  people's  old  clothes  and  mend  them  for 
the  people.' 

" '  And  this  you  consider  good  ? '  asked  Tolstoy. 

"  '  Of  course.  This  brings  the  benefactress  into  contact 
with  actual  want.' 

" '  But  I  think  that  a  dressed-up  miss  who  is  holding 
in  her  lap  dirty  and  ill-smelling  rags  is  only  playing  an 
insincere,  theatrical  part.' 

" '  I  ask  you  not  to  say  this  !  *  Turg&ev  shouted,  with 
dilated  nostrils. 

" '  Why  should  I  not  say  what  I  am  convinced  of  ? ' 
replied  Tolstoy. 

"  Before  I  had  a  chance  to  call  out  '  stop '  to  Turg^nev, 
he,  mad  with  anger,  exclaimed :  '  If  so,  I  will  make  you 
stop  by  insulting  you.'  With  these  words  he  jumped  up 
from  the  table  and,  clutching  his  hair,  walked  excitedly 
into  the  next  room.  A  second  later  he  came  back  and 
said,  turning  to  my  wife,  '  For  God's  sake,  pardon  my 
monstrous  conduct,  which  I  regret  deeply.'  Thereupon 
he  went  out  again." 

It  was  not  merely  Turg^nev's  sudden  excitabihty  that 
had  caused  this  sally,  but  also  a  rankling  feeling  that 
Tolstoy  was  outgrowing  him.  "  Turgenev  cannot  make 
his  peace  with  the  thought  that  Lev  is  growing  and 
getting  away  from  liis  guardianship,"  is  what  Nikolay 
Tolstoy  once  said  about  Turgenev.  On  the  other  hand, 
Tolstoy's  retort  was  entirely  in  keeping  with  his  charac- 
ter: he  could  not  bear  anything  that  was  false  and  in- 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  253 

sincere,  and  he  never  let  slip  an  opportunity  of  giving 
vent  to  his  indignation.  The  strained  relations  between 
the  two  great  authors  lasted  until  the  year  1878,  when 
Tolstoy  extended  his  hand  of  forgiveness  to  his  elder 
friend,  and  the  whole  incident  was  forgotten. 

For  two  years  Tolstoy  devoted  himself  exclusively  to 
his  vUlage  school,  for  which  he  employed  four  students 
of  the  university,  and  a  German,  Keller,  whom  he  had 
met  in  Jena  during  his  European  journey.  The  manner 
in  which  he  conducted  his  school '  is  amply  discussed  in 
his  pedagogical  essays,  and  to  this  we  shall  return  later. 
His  pedagogical  ideas  he  developed  in  the  periodical  Yds- 
naija  Polijdna,  which  he  himself  edited.  Meanwhile  his 
old  weakness  for  the  gaming-table  came  back  to  him,  and 
heavy  losses  thus  incurred  caused  him  to  borrow  one 
thousand  roubles  of  the  editor  of  the  Russian  Messenger 
as  an  advance  payment  for  the  Cossacks,  which  was  not 
yet  quite  finished. 

During  his  visits  to  Moscow  he  was  a  frequent  visitor 
at  Doctor  Behrs's,  whose  three  daughters  seemed  to  have 
equal  attraction  for  him.  Doctor  Behrs  was  a  German 
of  the  Baltic  provinces  who  had  married  the  daughter  of 
Isl^nev,  a  neighbour  of  the  Tolstoys.  For  this  Mrs. 
Behrs,  who  was  but  a  year  older  than  Tolstoy,  Tolstoy 
had  had  a  considerable  affection  wlien  they  both  were 
little  children,  and  now  he  transferred  his  attention  to 
the  younger  generation  of  the  Behrs.  When  the  family 
removed  for  the  summer  to  the  suburban  estate  of  Pok- 
rovskoe,  he  frequently  passed  whole  days  there.  During 
the  summer  of  1862  he  took  two  of  his  best  peasant 
pupils  with  him  to  Samara,  going  there  from  Nizhni-N(5v- 
gorod  by  boat,  to  undergo  a  kumys  cure.  He  was  barely 
back  home,  when  the  family  of  the  Behrs,  on  their  way 
to  the  not  very  distant  estate  of  the  Isl(5nevs,  stopped  for 
a  few  days  at  Yasnaya  Polyana.  They  had  just  reached 
their  own  destination,  when  Tolstoy  arrived  on  the  scene. 


254  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

Here  he  proposed  to  Sofiya,  the  second  daughter,  in  pre- 
cisely the  same  manner  in  which  Levin  made  his  propo- 
sal to  Kitty.  The  engagement  was  kept  secret  for  a  time, 
and  on  September  23d  they  were  married.  On  October 
9th  he  wrote  to  Fet:  "I  have  been  married  these  two 
weeks,  and  I  am  happy,  and  a  new,  an  entirely  new 
man." 

For  the  winter  the  newly  married  pair  went  to  Mos- 
cow, stopping  at  Hotel  Chevrier,  formerly  Chevalier.  In 
the  spring  they  were  back  in  the  country.  The  Cossacks 
and  Folikilshka,  which  then  appeared,  evoked  a  mass  of 
very  favourable  criticism,  and  Turg^^uev,  in  spite  of  his 
personal  difference  with  Tolstoy,  went  into  transports 
over  them.  In  reply  to  a  notice  of  these  productions  by 
Fet,  Tolstoy  wrote :  "  Folikushka  is  the  prattling  on  any 
chance  subject  by  a  man  who  '  indeed  wields  the  pen,' 
and  the  Cossacks  is  '  juicy,'  though  poor  stuff.  Now  I 
am  writing  the  story  of  a  piebald  gelding ;  I  shall  have 
it  printed  by  autumn,  I  think.  However,  how  can  I 
write  now?  Now  even  the  invisible  efforts  are  visible, 
and,  besides,  I  am  up  to  my  ears  in  Yufanizing.  Sonya  is 
with  me.  We  have  no  superintendent;  we  have  only 
assistants  in  our  agricultural  labour  and  building  opera- 
tions, and  she  runs  the  office  and  the  cash-box.  I  have 
bees,  and  sheep,  and  a  new  orchard,  and  a  distillery. 
Everything  goes  well,  though,  of  course,  poorly  in  com- 
parison with  the  ideal.  What  do  you  think  of  the  Polish 
affairs  ?  Things  are  bad !  Shall  we  not  be  obliged  to 
take  the  sword  down  from  the  rusty  nail?"  In  reply 
to  Fet's  jest  about  Tolstoy's  wife,  who  was  so  many  years 
younger  than  her  husband,  Tolstoy  again  wrote  to  him 
in  May  :  "  My  wife  is  not  playing  with  dolls  at  all.  Do 
not  msult  her.  She  is  a  serious  helpmate  of  mine,  and 
that,  too,  while  she  is  carrying  a  burden,  which  she  hopes 
to  be  relieved  of  in  the  beginning  of  July.  What  will 
come  later  ?     We  are  Yufanizing  a  bit.     I  have  made  an 


>}»Tt«.JJ/'  ■ 


Countess  Tolstoy. 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  255 

important  discovery,  which  I  hasten  to  inform  you  of. 
Clerks  and  superintendents  and  elders  are  only  a  nui- 
sance on  an  estate.  Try  to  chase  away  all  the  managers 
and  to  sleep  until  ten  o'clock,  and  things  will  certainly 
not  go  worse.  I  have  made  this  experiment,  and  I  am 
well  satisfied  with  it." 

Shortly  afterward  Fet  visited  the  Tolstoys,  and  this  is 
his  account  of  the  meeting  :  "  I  had  just  turned  in  between 
the  towers,  down  the  birch  avenue,  when  I  came  upou  Lev 
Nikolaevich,  who  was  directing  the  drawing  out  of  a  seine 
along  the  whole  length  of  a  pond,  and  who  was  apparently 
taking  every  precaution  to  prevent  the  escape  of  the  cru- 
cians, which  concealed  themselves  in  the  ooze  and  rushed 
past  the  wings  of  the  seine,  without  paying  any  attention 
to  the  furious  snapping  of  the  ropes  and  even  axles. 

"  '  Oh,  how  glad  I  am  ! '  he  exclaimed,  obviously  divid- 
ing his  attention  between  me  and  the  crucians,  *  Just  a 
minute !  Ivan !  Ivan !  Pull  the  left  wing  in  more 
sharply  !     Sonya,  have  you  seen  Afanasi  Afanasevich  ? ' 

"  But  this  remark  was  apparently  belated,  for  the  count- 
ess, aU  dressed  in  white,  had  run  up  to  me  in  the  avenue, 
and  continuing  to  run  as  fast,  with  an  enormous  bunch  of 
household  keys  in  her  belt,  and  without  paying  any  atten- 
tion to  her  extremely  advanced  condition,  had  gone  on  in 
the  direction  of  the  pond,  jumping  over  the  slats  of  a 
low  fence. 

"  '  What  are  you  doing,  countess  ? '  I  exclaimed  in  terror. 
'  How  careless  you  are  ! ' 

" '  Never  mind,'  she  answered,  with  a  pleasant  smile,  '  I 
am  used  to  it.' 

" '  Sdnya,  tell  N(5sterka  to  bring  a  bag  from  the  store- 
house, and  let  us  go  home.' 

"  The  countess  immediately  separated  an  immense  key 
from  her  belt  and  handed  it  to  a  boy,  who  started  on  a 
run  to  carry  out  the  demand. 

" '  Here,'  said  the  count, '  you  see  a  complete  application 


256  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

of  our  method:   she  keeps  the  keys   and  carries  on  all 
household  operations  by  means  of  boys.' 

"  At  the  animated  dinner  there  appeared  the  crucians 
which  had  been  caught  in  our  presence.  Everybody 
seemed  to  be  equally  at  ease  and  happy.  This  evening 
could  justly  be  called  full  of  hopes.  It  was  worth  seeing 
with  what  pride  and  bright  hope  the  eyes  of  the  good  aunt 
Tatyana  Aleksandrovna  watched  the  dear  nephew  and  his 
wife  and,  turning  to  me,  spoke  clearly,  '  You  see,  of  course, 
things  cannot  be  different  with  mon  cher  Leon.' 

"  As  to  the  young  countess,  the  life  of  one  in  her  con- 
dition, who  jumps  over  fences,  cannot  help  but  be  illu- 
mined with  joyous  hopes.  The  count  himself,  who  had 
passed  all  his  life  in  the  search  of  novelty,  during  this 
period  apparently  entered  into  an  unknown  world,  in  the 
powerful  future  of  which  he  believed  with  all  the  infatua- 
tion of  an  artist.  I  myself,  carried  away  by  the  general 
tone  of  unbounded  happiness,  did  not  on  that  evening  feel 
the  stone  of  Sisyphus  which  was  weighing  heavily  upon 
me." 

In  1863  the  rehabilitation  of  many  exiles  who  had  been 
sent  to  Siberia  after  the  December  revolt  of  1825  revived 
the  interest  in  that  incident,  and  Tolstoy,  too,  began  to 
busy  himself  with  collecting  material  for  a  novel,  TJie 
Decembrists,  which,  however,  he  never  fiuished.  During 
his  research,  he  was  taken  back  to  the  period  preceding 
the  revolt,  and  thus  there  ripened  in  him  the  desire  to 
treat  the  great  War  of  1812.  The  subject  grew  upon 
him  as  he  proceeded.  He  began  with  depicting  the  period 
preceding  even  the  year  of  the  French  invasion  under  the 
name  of  TJie  Year  1805.  In  the  beginning  of  1865  he 
wrote  to  Fet :  "  Do  you  know  what  a  surprising  thing  I 
have  to  tell  you  about  myself  ?  When  my  horse  threw 
me,  and  I  broke  my  arm,  and  I  awoke  from  my  swoon, 
I  said  to  myself  '  I  am  a  litterateur.'  And  I  am  a  htter- 
ateur,  only  a  lonely  litterateur,  and  all  in  the  dark.     In  a 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  257 

few  days  will  appear  the  first  half  of  the  first  part  of  Tlic 
Year  1805.  Please  give  me  your  detailed  opiuioa  about 
it.  I  value  your  opinion  and  that  of  another  man,  whom 
I  dislike  in  proportion  as  I  am  getting  big,  —  Turgeuev. 
He  will  understand  it.  What  I  have  printed  heretofore 
I  consider  only  a  trial  of  the  pen ;  though  I  like  what  I 
am  having  printed  now  better  than  anything  written  by 
me  before,  it  seems  to  me  to  be  weak,  as  an  introduction 
must  be.  What  will  be  later,  I  tremble  to  think.  Write 
me  what  they  say  in  the  various  places  where  you  are 
acquainted,  and,  above  all,  how  it  affects  the  crowd.  No 
doubt  it  will  pass  unnoticed.  I  expect  and  wish  that ; 
if  only  they  will  not  call  me  names,  for  scolding  upsets 
me." 

In  May  he  wrote :  "  I  am  writing  now  and  then,  and  I 
am  satisfied  with  my  work.  The  snipes  still  attract  me, 
and  every  evening  I  shoot  at  them,  that  is,  past  them. 
My  farming  is  going  well,  that  is,  it  does  not  bother  me 
much,  —  I  have  everything  I  ask  from  it.  So  much 
about  myself.  To  your  request  to  say  something  about 
the  Yasnaya  Polyana  school  I  answer  in  the  negative. 
Though  your  arguments  are  just,  the  periodicals  have  for- 
gotten about  it,  and  I  do  not  want  to  bring  it  up,  not 
because  1  have  renounced  anything  I  have  said  about  it, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  because  I  do  not  cease  thinking  of 
it,  and,  if  God  grants  me  life,  I  hoi)e  from  all  that  to  make 
a  book,  with  the  conclusion  at  which  I  have  arrived  after 
three  years  of  impassioned  preoccupation  with  this  mat- 
ter. ,  ,  .  Om"  agricultural  affairs  are  now  like  the  busi- 
ness of  a  shareholder  who  has  shares  that  have  lost  their 
value  and  are  not  taken  on  Exchange.  Of  late  I  have 
been  satisfied  with  my  affairs,  but  the  general  course  of 
things,  that  is,  the  imminent  famine  calamity  of  the 
masses,  torments  me  more  and  more  with  every  day.  It 
is  so  strange,  and  even  bad  and  terrible :  at  our  table  we 
have  pink  radishes,  yellow  butter,  tinted  soft  bread  on  a 


258  LEV   N.   TOLSTOY 

clean  table-cloth,  the  trees  are  green  in  the  orchard,  our 
young  women  wear  muslin  dresses  and  eujoy  the  heat 
and  the  shade,  and  there  that  evil  demon  Hunger  is  doing 
his  work,  covering  the  fields  with  orache,  opening  cracks 
in  the  parched  earth,  blistering  the  callus-covered  heels  of 
the  peasant  men  and  women,  and  sphtting  the  horses' 
hoofs." 

War  arid  Peace  proceeded  slowly,  the  chief  obstacle 
being  the  double  problem  set  to  himself  by  Tolstoy,  of 
developing  the  historical  plot  by  the  side  of  the  action 
of  the  characters.  The  parts  as  they  appeared  were  re- 
ceived by  the  hterary  men  in  Russia  with  mingled  feelings 
of  delight  and  disappointment.  His  reputation  became 
firmly  established.  Eugene  Schuyler,  who  visited  Tolstoy 
in  1868,  tells  of  the  excellent  library  wliich  the  author 
had  in  his  possession  and  which  dealt  with  Napoleon  and 
his  time.  He  not  only  investigated  historical  documents 
for  his  novel,  but  even  went  down  to  the  battle-field  at 
Borodino,  in  order  to  get  the  local  colouring.  At  the 
same  time  he  was  interested  in  philosophy  and  was  carried 
away  by  Schopenhauer.  "  Do  you  know  what  happened 
to  me  this  summer  ? "  he  wrote  to  Fet.  "  A  continuous 
transport  before  Schopenhauer,  and  a  series  of  spiritual 
pleasures  which  I  never  experieuced  before.  I  have 
ordered  all  his  works  and  I  have  been  reading  them  (I 
have  also  read  Kant  through).  I  am  sure,  not  one  student 
has  during  his  course  studied  and  learned  so  much  as  have 
I  during  the  present  summer.  I  do  not  know  whether  I 
shall  ever  change  my  mind,  but  now  I  am  certain  that 
Schopenhauer  is  one  of  the  most  genial  of  men.  You 
said  that  he  had  just  written  something  or  other  on  philo- 
sophical questions.  Just  something  or  other  ?  Why,  this 
is  a  whole  world  in  an  incredibly  clear  and  beautiful  re- 
flection. I  have  begun  translating  him.  Won't  you, 
too,  take  hold  of  the  translation  ?  We  could  get  him  out 
together.     As  I  read  him  I  marvel  how  it  is  his   name 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  259 


could  have  remained  unknown  for  so  long  a  time.  There 
is  but  one  explanation,  the  one  which  he  frequently 
repeats,  that  besides  idiots  there  is  hardly  any  one  in 
the  world." 

Shortly  afterward  he  announces  that  he  is  reading  a 
great  deal  of  Shakespeare,  Gothe,  I'lishkin,  Gogol,  and 
Moli^re,  and  that  he  has  given  up  reading  periodicals  and 
newspapers,  to  his  great  advantage.  The  drama  for  a 
while  absorbed  all  his  attention.  "  This  whole  winter 
I  have  been  busying  myself  with  the  drama  in  general, 
and  as  always  happens  with  people  who  up  to  their  for- 
tieth year  have  not  thought  of  a  certain  subject  and  have 
formed  no  idea  about  it,  and  suddenly  with  a  clearness 
which  comes  with  forty  years  direct  their  attention  upon 
a  fresh  subject,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  see  in  it  much  that 
is  new.  The  whole  winter  I  have  been  enjoying  myself 
by  lying  dov/n,  falling  asleep,  playing  b^zique,  walking  on 
snow-shoes,  skating,  and  for  the  most  part  lying  in  bed 
(sick),  when  the  characters  of  a  drama  or  comedy  begin 
to  act.  And  they  act  very  well.  ...  I  should  also  like 
to  read  Sophocles  and  Euripedes."  In  December  of  1870 
Tolstoy  had  proceeded  suflficieutly  in  the  study  of  Greek 
to  materialize  his  wish :  "  I  am  studying  Greek  from  morn- 
ing until  night.  I  am  not  writing  anything,  because  I  am 
studying.  To  judge  from  the  information  which  has 
reached  me,  your  hide,  offered  as  a  parchment  for  my 
diploma  of  Greek,  is  in  danger :  incredible  and  unusual, 
—  but  I  have  read  through  Xenophon,  and  now  I  read 
him  at  random.  But  for  Homer  there  is  need  of  a  dic- 
tionary and  of  some  exertion.  I  am  impatiently  waiting 
to  show  this  trick  to  somebody  ;  but  how  happy  I  am  that 
God  has  sent  this  maduess  on  me.  In  the  first  place,  I 
am  enjoying  myself ;  in  the  second  place,  T  have  convinced 
myself  that  of  everything  truly  beautiful  and  simply 
beautiful  produced  by  the  human  word  I  did  not  know 
anything  before,  just  as  all  pretend  to  know  it,  but  do  not 


260  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

understand  it ;  in  the  third,  I  am  sure,  I  do  not  and  will 
not  write  any  wordy  bosh.  Feccavi,  but  upon  my  word, 
I  never  shall  again.  For  the  Lord's  sake,  explain  to  me 
why  nobody  knows  ^sop's  fables,  nor  even  charming 
Xenophon,  to  say  nothing  of  Plato,  of  Homer,  who  are 
still  ahead  for  me.  As  much  as  I  can  judge  even  now, 
Homer  has  only  been  defiled  by  our  translations,  which 
are  taken  from  the  German  model.  A  trite,  but  involun- 
tary comparison :  boiled  and  distilled  water  and  water 
from  a  spring,  which  affects  the  teeth,  with  the  sparkle 
and  the  sun  and  even  the  motes,  which  only  make  it 
purer.  All  these  Vosses  and  Zhukovskis  sing  in  a  syrupy, 
guttural,  and  fawning  voice.  But  that  devil  sings,  and 
shouts  from  a  full  breast,  and  it  has  never  occurred  to 
him  that  any  one  may  hear  him.  You  may  triumph : 
without  the  knowledcre  of  Greek  there  is  no  culture.  But 
what  knowledge  ?  How  is  it  to  be  acquired  ?  What  is 
it  good  for  ?  For  all  that  I  have  arguments  which  are 
as  clear  as  day." 

Tolstoy's  health  had  never  been  very  good,  and  his  pre- 
disposition to  consumption  —  he  had  lost  two  brothers 
by  that  disease  —  had  once  before  caused  him  to  go  to 
Samara  for  the  purpose  of  undergoing  a  kumys  cure.  He 
had  continued  this  cure  at  home,  manufacturing  his  own 
kumys,  a  malodorous  ferment,  which  he  kept  close  to  his 
study.  In  June  of  1871  his  wife  insisted  upon  his  going 
once  more  to  Samara,  as  his  health  was  again  failing. 
While  living  among  the  Bashkirs,  whose  simplicity  and 
naturalness  he  admired  greatly,  he  read  Herodotus,  and 
imagined  that  in  the  Bashkirs  he  recognized  those  very 
Scythians  of  whom  the  Greek  author  spoke.  The  virgin 
newness  of  the  country  attracted  him,  and  he  thought 
seriously  of  purchasing  an  estate  there.  After  his  return 
to  Yasnaya  Polyana  he  once  more  opened  a  peasant 
school,  in  which  he  himself  and  his  wife  and  children 
acted    as    teachers.     As    early    as    1868,    when    Eugene 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  261 

Schuyler  visited  him,  he  had  been  working  on  the  compo- 
sition of  primers,  as  the  existing  ones  seemed  to  him  to 
be  written  in  a  poor  language  and  to  be  beyond  the  chil- 
dren. At  his  request,  Schuyler  provided  for  him  a  Lumber 
of  American  school-books,  which  aided  him  materially  in 
his  undertaking.  These  primers,  four  in  number,  contain- 
ing original  short  stories,  among  them  the  Prisoner  of  the 
Caucasus,  and  a  mass  of  translations  and  adaptations,  he 
finished  soon  after  he  had  again  opened  school.  He  put 
his  whole  soul  into  this  matter,  as  he  himself  said,  add- 
ing, changing,  and  correcting  for  a  long  time.  Such  is  the 
simplicity  and  straightforwardness  of  the  diction  in  the 
stories  contained  in  these  primers,  that  they  even  now 
form  the  best  parts  of  Paissian  primers  for  the  public 
schools. 

At  the  same  time  he  began  to  write  Anna  Karenin, 
*'  a  work  which  is  near  to  my  heart,"  as  he  wrote  at  the 
time.  Turgenev,  who  heard  of  Tolstoy's  new  literary 
work,  hoped  that  there  would  not  be  any  philosophy  in  it. 
Tolstoy's  life  was  fully  occupied  with  his  work  on  his 
great  novel,  teaching  school,  and  instructing  his  children 
in  Greek  and  mathematics,  attending  to  his  agricultural 
labours,  and  now  and  then  going  out  with  an  axe  to  fell 
trees  or  with  a  scythe  to  mow  with  the  peasants.  After 
eleven  years  of  married  life,  death  for  the  first  time  visited 
Tolstoy's  home :  he  lost  two  children  in  rapid  succession, 
and  a  little  later  his  aunt  passed  aw-ay.  Samara  w-as 
visited  several  summers,  the  wide  steppes  and  their  in- 
habitants having  an  ever  increasing  attraction  for  him. 
"  These  two  months  I  have  not  soiled  my  hands  with  ink 
or  my  heart  with  thoughts.  Now  I  am  once  more  taking 
up  tiresome,  sickening  Anna  Karenin  with  the  one  de- 
sire as  quickly  as  possible  to  make  room  for  myself, — 
to  find  time  for  other  occupations,  anything  but  pedagogi- 
cal, which  I  love,  but  wish  to  give  up.  They  take  up  too 
much  of  my  time.     I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  many, 


262  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

many  things,  but  I  cannot  write  about  them.  One  must 
live,  as  we  did,  in  the  healthy  wilderness  of  Samara,  see 
this  struggle  of  the  nomad  life  (of  millions  upon  enormous 
extents  of  territory)  with  the  primitive  agricultural  life, 
which  is  taking  place  under  our  very  eyes,  feel  all  the 
significance  of  this  struggle,  to  become  convinced  that,  if 
more  than  one,  there  are  three  rapidly  running  and  loudly 
shouting  destroyers  of  the  social  order,  that  this  social 
order  is  the  disease  of  a  parasite  of  the  living  oak,  that 
the  oak  is  not  concerned  about  the  parasite,  —  that  this  is 
not  smoke,  but  a  shadow  which  is  running  away  from  the 
smoke.  Why  my  fate  has  taken  me  there,  1  do  not  Ivnow  ; 
but  I  do  know  that  I  have  heard  speeches  in  the  Enghsh 
parliament  (this,  you  know,  is  considered  to  be  very  impor- 
tant), and  I  felt  annoyed  and  tired ;  while  there,  though 
there  are  flies,  dirt,  Bashkir  peasants,  I  with  tense  re- 
spect and  awe  look  and  listen,  and  feel  that  everything 
there  is  important." 

A  change  was  slowly  taking  place  in  Tolstoy.  The 
expressions  of  the  critics  interested  him  less  and  less,  and 
he  failed  to  become  enthusiastic  over  the  French  transla- 
tion of  his  works  made  by  Turg^nev  and  Madame  "Viardot. 
Again  it  was  death,  not  so  much  the  death  of  his  children, 
as  his  own,  which  he  anticipated  within  a  short  time,  that 
closed  the  third  period  of  his  activity,  during  which  his 
great  novels.  War  and  Peace  and  Anna  Karenin,  were 
produced.     On  April  29,  1876,  Tolstoy  wrote  to  Fet: 

"  From  one  of  your  last  letters,  in  which  I  overlooked 
the  phrase,  *  I  wanted  to  call  you  to  see  me  go  away,' 
which  you  wrote  in  the  midst  of  a  discussion  on  the  feed- 
ing of  horses,  and  which  I  have  only  just  now  grasped, 
I  have  transferred  myself  into  your  condition,  which  is 
comprehensible  and  very  near  to  me,  and  I  feel  sorry  for 
you.  Both  according  to  Schopenhauer  and  our  conscience, 
compassion  and  love  are  one  and  the  same  thing,  —  and 
I  wanted  to  write  to  you.     I  thank  you  for  your  idea  of 


LEY    N.    TOLSTOY  263 

calling  me  to  see  you  pass  away,  when  you  thought  that 
the  end  was  near.  I  will  do  the  same,  when  I  get  ready 
to  go  there,  if  I  shall  have  enough  strength  to  think.  I 
would  need  no  one  so  much  at  that  moment  as  you  and 
my  brother.  Before  death  the  comnmnion  with  men  who 
in  this  life  look  beyond  its  conlines  is  dear  and  joyous ; 
and  you  and  those  rare,  real  men  whom  I  have  met  on  a 
close  footing  in  life,  in  spite  of  their  wholesome  relation 
to  life,  always  stand  on  the  very  brink  and  see  life  clearly, 
for  the  very  reason  that  they  look,  now  into  Nirvana,  intt) 
unlindtedness,  into  the  unknown,  now  into  sansara,  and 
this  looking  into  Nirvana  strengthens  their  vision.  But 
worldly  people,  no  matter  how  much  they  may  speak  of 
God,  are  disagreeable  to  men  of  our  calibre  and  nmst  be 
painful  in  the  time  of  death,  because  they  do  not  see  what 
we  see,  namely,  that  God,  more  indefinite,  more  distant, 
but  higher  and  more  indubitable,  as  it  says  in  that  article. 
You  are  ill  and  you  think  of  death  ;  but  I  am  well,  and 
I  do  not  stop  thinking  of  the  same  and  preparing  for  it. 
Let  us  see  who  will  be  first.  But  suddenly,  from  various 
imperceptible  data,  it  has  become  clear  to  me  how  deeply 
related  your  nature,  your  soul  (especially  in  relation  to 
death),  is  to  me,  so  that  I  have  suddenly  come  to  appre- 
ciate our  relations  and  have  begun  more  than  ever  to  hold 
them  dear.  Much  of  what  I  have  been  thinking  I  have 
tried  to  express  in  the  last  chapter  of  the  April  number  of 
the  Russian  Messenger  (in  the  seventh  part  of  Anna 
Karenin)." 


V. 

Tolstoy  had  from  his  earliest  youth  been  sensitive  to 
every  false  note  and  sham  in  our  so-called  civilizatiou, 
and  had  taken  every  occasion  to  point  out  its  flaws.  But 
it  vt^as  only  when  he  directed  his  attention  to  school 
matters,  and  thus  turned  away  from  the  activity  of  the 
artistic  litterateur,  whose  opposition  to  the  existing  order 
had  been  taken  by  his  contemporaries  as  a  mere  freak  of 
a  genius,  as  a  desire  to  introduce  something  new  and  start- 
ling, that  he  was  confronted  with  the  necessity  of  estab- 
lishing his  views  on  a  philosophic  basis  and  proving  his 
arguments  and  paradoxes.  He  at  once  defined  the  pro- 
gramme of  his  periodical,  Ydsnaya  Poly&na,  in  a  leading 
article.  On  Pojndar  Education,  and  from  this  programme 
he  has  never  departed,  though  he  has  extended  it,  so  as  to 
include  many  other  than  purely  pedagogical  principles. 

"  Popular  education  "  was  the  watchword  of  all  those 
who  claimed  to  be  liberal,  and  to  question  the  panacea 
of  popular  education  was  tantamount  to  aligning  oneself 
with  obscurantism.  But  Tolstoy  was  not  carried  away  by 
words.  Popular  education !  Very  well.  But  why  are 
the  masses  always  opposed  to  receiving  what  is  recognized 
as  a  boon,  and  why  has  it  to  be  made  compulsory  ?  So 
popular  education,  like  the  army,  like  government,  like  the 
state  religion,  which  are  many  years  afterward  brought 
into  the  circle  of  his  vision,  is  based  on  violence,  and  what 
is  born  of  violence  cannot  be  beneficial.  The  freedom  of 
the  school  has  been  the  desideratum  of  philosophers  from 
Plato  to  Kant,  but  in  enforcing  individual  ideas,  the 
school  has  every  time  been  made  an  instrument  of  com- 

264 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  265 

pulsion,  and  has  thus  failed  of  its  purpose.  No  wouder 
it  creates  scientific  parrots,  morally  irresponsible  boobies, 
hving  machines,  and  becomes,  "  not  a  shepherd  for  the 
flock,  but  a  flock  for  the  shepherd." 

The  real  school  is  life,  which  is  unhampered  by  any 
pedagogical  sophistries,  and  for  this  reason  the  labouring 
classes  learn  'iheir  lessons  in  the  theatre,  the  cafe  chantant, 
the  dram-sl  ops,  and  prefer  Tlie  Three  Musketeers  and 
Monte  Crista  to  books  written  in  a  scientific  lingo.  Tol- 
stoy has  frequently  been  proclaimed  a  visionary,  and  yet 
so  many  of  his  educational  ideas  have  since  liis  day  been 
reahzed,  at  least  in  America,  that  there  is  no  reasonable 
ground  to  assume  that  his  other  pedagogical  principles, 
though  untried,  are  unsound.  The  elective  system  of 
education,  which  is  extending  down  and  lower  in  the  edu- 
cational hierarchy,  the  extension  of  library  and  laboratory 
facilities,  the  wide  use  to  which  popular  lectures  are  put, 
the  correspondence  schools,  the  university  extension, — 
all  have  come  since  the  day  Tolstoy  preached  the  absolute, 
not  the  historical,  freedom  of  the  school.  That  the  safety 
of  the  state  depends  upon  the  education  of  its  citizens  is  a 
trite  saying  in  America,  but  that  is  a  sentiment  which 
Tolstoy  would  emphatically  reject,  because  such  educa- 
tion is  compulsory  and  leads  to  slavish  obedience.  He 
wants  for  education  a  much  wider  scope,  for  "  education,  in 
its  widest  sense,  including  the  bringing  up,  is  that  activity 
of  man  which  has  for  its  base  the  need  of  equality  and 
the  invariable  law  of  educational  progress."  In  other 
words,  equality,  the  brotherhood  of  man,  is  the  final  and 
only  aim  of  education,  as  it  is  of  religion. 

Passing  to  particular  points  in  education,  the  author 
casts  a  flood  of  light  upon  subjects  which,  by  the  modern 
so-called  science  of  pedagogy,  are  left  as  densely  obscure 
as  ever.  He  scathingly  arraigns  that  pedagogy  which  still 
looks  upon  the  lower  school  as  a  nursery  for  the  higher 
institutions  of  learning,  thus  practising  the  most  ii'ksome 


266  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

violence  against  the  whole  mass  of  pupils,  in  order  to  send 
an  insignificant  minority  to  the  higher  schools.  In  On 
the  Teaching  of  the  Rudiments  he  demands  that  the  pupils 
of  the  lowest  schools  be  given  a  useful  education,  fitting 
them  for  life,  without  considering  whether  or  no  it  fits 
them  for  the  universities.  Alas,  our  pubhc  schools  still 
insist  on  cramming  into  the  heads  of  the  poor  children 
the  capital  of  Nepaul,  and  intricate  problems  on  deferred 
payments,  and  the  difference  between  the  republican  and 
the  democratic  parties,  subjects  utterly  unadapted  to 
tender  years !  The  worst  of  it  is,  that  the  "  child  is  asked 
to  comprehend  in  precisely  the  same  manner  that  the 
teacher  comprehends  it,"  whereas  all  methods  of  instruct- 
ing the  rudiments  are  equally  bad  and  equally  good. 
Then  Tolstoy  proceeds  to  analyze  the  absurd  method  of 
object-teaching  and  the  torture  known  as  reading  by 
sounds,  and  points  out  that  frequently  the  old  method  of 
giving  special  names  to  letters,  without  any  obvious  rela- 
tion to  their  sounds,  has  produced  just  as  good  results  as 
any  of  the  new-fangled  methods  of  pedagogy.  The  teacher 
must  know  all  methods  and  apply  them  in  accordance 
with  the  individual  cases.  Every  method  is  only  a  step 
and,  "  as  the  business  of  teaching  is  an  art,  completeness 
and  perfection  are  not  obtainable,  while  development  and 
perfectibility  are  endless."  In  this  last  sentence  the  error 
of  modern  pedagogy  and  the  philosophy  of  the  real  peda- 
gogy are  admirably  defined.  It  is  because  pedagogy  deems 
itself  to  be  a  science  and  capable  of  perfection  that  it 
blunders  so  egregiously.  If  it  recognized  the  striving 
toward  an  impossible  absolute  perfection  as  its  goal,  it 
would  be  less  doctrinaire  and  more  liberal.  On  the 
other  hand,  we  have  here  a  particular  case  of  Tolstoy's 
later  complete  system  of  perfectionism,  whether  religious, 
moral,  or  social :  it  is  a  striving  toward  an  absolute, 
fiidtely  impossible  perfection,  not  the  possession  of  it, 
which  would  be  death. 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  267 

In  a  Project  of  a  General  Plan  for  the  Estahlislimcnt  of 
Popular  Schools  Tolstoy  gives  a  telliug  blow  to  the 
paternal  system  of  the  establishment  of  popular  schools 
by  the  government.  After  pointing  out  the  fact  that 
Russia  cannot  develop  educationally  along  the  same  lines 
as  America,  he  scrutinizes  the  governmental  Project,  lays 
bare  its  glittering  generalities,  indicates  the  hopelessness 
of  any  reform  coming  from  above,  and  finally  launches 
into  an  illustration  of  the  manner  in  which  the  peas- 
ants would  execute  the  school  law.  He  predicts  that 
every  provision  of  the  Project  would  become  a  mere  farce, 
that  the  peasants  would  see  nothing  in  the  establishment 
of  the  schools  but  a  method  for  imposing  a  new  tax  upon 
them.  More  than  forty  years  have  passed  since  that 
prediction  was  made,  and  every  *word  of  it  has  proven 
true,  —  so  intimate  was  his  acquaintance  with  the  peas- 
ant mind  and  his  knowledge  of  the  devious  ways  of  the 
government. 

In  the  essay  Education  and  Culture  Tolstoy  further 
develops  the  idea  that  education  is  only  a  species  of 
violence,  and  draws  a  distinction  between  culture,  which 
is  free,  and  education,  which  is  "  the  tendency  toward 
moral  despotism  raised  to  a  principle."  This  condemnation 
covers  all  institutions  of  learning,  including  the  univer- 
sities which,  since  they  are  not  entirely  free,  have  no 
other  basis  than  arbitrariness  and  do  not  widely  differ 
from  the  monastic  schools.  The  universities,  a  dislike 
for  which  he  had  expressed  in  Youth,  and  which,  as  the 
seat  of  pseudo-scientific  learning,  he  later  in  hfe  treated 
with  even  greater  contempt,  are  to  him  no  better  than  the 
female  boarding-schools,  inasmuch  as  they  both  alienate 
the  students  from  the  influences  of  home,  widening  the 
gap  between  the  educated  and  the  lower  classes.  This 
alienation  begins  in  the  gymnasium  and  even  in  the 
popular  schools,  and  grows  in  proportion  as  the  so-called 
higher  learning  is  acquired.     The  contempt  expressed  by 


268  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

Tolstoy  in  Youth  for  the  professors  of  a  Eussian  university 
is  here  formulated  as  due  to  the  feeling  of  abhorrence  for 
the  dogma  of  the  professor's  infallibility.  For  the  univer- 
sity lectures  he  has  little  love,  since  they  admit  of  no 
discussion  by  the  students  and  since  it  is  frequently  easier 
and  more  convenient  to  acquire  knowledge  through  the 
medium  of  books.  A  real  university  is  "  a  collection  of 
men  for  the  purpose  of  their  mutual  culture." 

In  summing  up  his  argument,  Tolstoy  conies  to  the 
conclusion  that  public  lectures,  museums,  are  the  best 
examples  of  schools  without  interference  in  education, 
while  the  universities  are  not.  To  make  the  university 
free,  not  only  must  the  student  be  free  to  choose  subjects 
of  instruction  for  himself,  but  the  teacher  must  be  allowed 
to  teach,  not  merely  as  he  pleases,  but  also  what  he  pleases. 
The  definite  appointment  of  a  teacher  to  lecture  on  a 
certain  small  part  of  some  subject  is  as  injurious  as  any 
other  kind  of  violence.  Here  again  a  comparison  with 
what  has  been  done  since  in  the  United  States  in  the 
matter  of  emancipating  education  from  the  bonds  of 
violence  will  show  the  far-sightedness  of  Tolstoy.  Many 
of  his  suggestions  have  been  realized  in  institutions  of 
higher  learning.  The  lecture  is  not,  as  in  Germany  and 
Russia,  the  only  means  for  imparting  knowledge.  Every 
good  teacher  knows  how  to  temper  his  dictum  with  that 
discussion  which  is  the  essence  of  good  instruction. 
Unfortunately,  however,  some  of  the  universities,  in  their 
desire  to  equal  the  German  schools,  are  falling  back  into 
the  sin  of  lecturing.  The  practical  side  of  education  aud 
.the  articulation  with  the  life  of  the  family  is  to  some  extent 
fostered  by  the  agricultural,  technical,  industrial  schools, 
by  the  correspondence  schools  and  the  university  exten- 
sions, the  latter  being  a  feeble  representation  of  what 
Tolstoy  regards  as  a  real  university.  Where  so  many 
suggestions  of  the  author  have  to  some  degree  been 
realized  in  life,  it  is  fair  to  assume  that  his  other  sugj^cs- 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  269 

tions,  though  still  untried,  will  prove  equally  fertile  of 
results. 

In  pointing  out  the  parallelism  between  the  American 
methods  and  Tolstoy's  theories,  I  do  not  by  any  means 
insist  on  their  identity.  There  is,  in  spite  of  the  great 
resemblance,  a  vast  difference  between  them.  Tolstoy's 
theories  are  the  logical  deductions  of  a  central  idea,  non- 
interference in  education,  the  abolition  of  violence,  not  only 
in  pedagogy,  but  in  life  in  general.  All  these  deductions 
every  time  correspond  to  the  demands  of  reason,  and 
have  little  to  do  with  practical  issues.  According  to  the 
Eussian  conception,  the  practical  issues  must  be  accom- 
modated to  the  dictates  of  reason.  In  the  American 
system,  the  practical  necessities  call  for  reforms,  and 
these  are  made  without  any  uniform  principle,  change 
with  every  new  demand,  and  stand  isolated.  Though 
apparently  the  same  results  are  achieved  as  those  aimed 
at  by  the  preaching  of  Tolstoy,  the  Anglo-Saxon  method 
of  practical  issues  lacks  the  philosophical  stability  of  the 
non-compromising  Eussian  philosophy,  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  extreme  logical  deductions  of  Tolstoy's  theories 
frequently  fail  to  gain  adherents  on  account  of  their  dis- 
regard of  existing  conditions.  Ultimately,  however,  it  is 
the  Tolstoyan  system  which  must  prevail,  if  education 
is  not  signally  to  suffer  defeat. 

The  Eussian  pedagogues,  educated  in  the  German 
methods,  took  exception  to  Tolstoy's  advanced  views, 
which  to  them  could  not  appear  otherwise  than  heretical, 
and  to  one  of  these  Tolstoy  felt  himself  constrained  to 
answer  in  a  special  article.  Progress  and  the  Defi^iition  of 
Education.  This  is  not  only  a  clear  presentation  of  the 
subject  of  free  education,  but  also  summarizes  his  opposi- 
tion to  so-called  progress,  an  opposition  from  which  he 
has  never  receded.  What  Mark(5v,  his  opponent,  brought 
up  against  Tolstoy  was  the  claptrap  of  pedagogical  science, 
—  the  demands  of  the  time,  historical  evolution,  progress. 


270  LE7   N.    TOLSTOY 

But  our  author  is  not  to  be  stormed  by  high-sounding 
words :  he  wants  a  formula  by  which  the  demands  of  the 
time  can  be  precisely  determined,  —  none  such  exists;  to 
him  historical  evolution  is  merely  a  justification  of  the 
present  order  of  things ;  progress,  —  but  is  progress  uni- 
versal and  beneficial  ?  The  Chinese  have  not  had  any 
progress  in  the  European  sense  of  the  word,  and  the 
Europeans  have  tried  to  introduce  progress  there  by  means 
of  powder  and  cannon-balls.  The  masses  of  the  people, 
in  Kussia  as  well  as  elsewhere,  have  always  been  opposed 
to  it.  It  is  only  the  upper  classes,  who  preach  the 
fetish  of  progress,  that  are  benefited  by  the  invention  of 
printing,  by  literature,  by  the  telegraph,  the  railways,  the 
steamboats,  and  not  the  peasants,  who  are  in  no  need  of 
all  these  advantages  of  progress. 

Here  we  meet  for  the  first  time  with  Tolstoy's  economic 
ideas,  which  are  these,  that  the  Eussian  peasants  cannot 
be  gauged  by  the  laws  which  lie  at  the  foundation  of 
political  economy  in  the  West.  To  the  Eussian  agricul- 
turist wages  are  not  the  measure  of  well-being.  Eor  them 
well-being  consists  in  the  increase  of  the  powers  of  the 
soil  and  other  agricultural  factors.  None  of  these  are 
advanced  by  so-called  progress.  At  the  same  time,  it  is 
the  masses  that  form  the  most  important  part  of  the 
people :  in  them  there  is  more  force  than  in  generations 
of  barons,  bankers,  and  professors.  The  progress  of  civili- 
zation is  one  of  the  most  violent  evils,  and  the  progress 
of  well-being  is  for  the  most  part  opposed  to  the  prog- 
ress of  civilization.  It  must  be  recalled  that  this  was 
enunciated  by  Tolstoy  long  before  E.  Carpenter  declared 
civilization  to  be  a  disease,  and  independently  of  and  pre- 
vious to  Henry  George's  Progress  and  Poverty  and  books 
of  a  similar  turn.  There  are  few  views,  held  by  Tolstoy, 
that  have  not  at  one  time  or  another  been  enunciated  by 
some  European  writer,  but  none  have  so  persistently  taken 
up  a  stand  against  so-called  civilization  and  progress  as 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  271 

Tolstoy,  and  none  have  with  such  unabating  zeal  and  with 
such  oneness  of  purpose  hunted  down  everything  which 
bears  upon  itself  the  impress  of  violence.  Eveu  the  usual 
relation  of  the  educator  to  the  educated  is  repulsive  to 
hiiu,  and  he  establishes  a  new  principle  of  education, 
namely,  that  education  is  the  activity  of  man  which  has 
for  its  base  the  need  of  equality  and  the  invariable  law  of 
educational  progress.  Thus  the  final  aim  of  education 
is  to  equahze  the  pupil  with  the  teacher,  and  education, 
as  regards  the  educator,  comes  to  an  end  when  the  pupil 
has  become  equal  with  his  teacher. 

So  convinced  has  Tolstoy  always  been  that  there  is 
more  strength  and   original  genius  in  the  peasant  class 
than  in   other  classes,  that  he   set   out   to   prove   that 
even  the  peasant  children  could  teach  us  how  to  com- 
pose themes.     This  thought  he  developed  in  an  article 
entitled,  Are  the  Peasant  Children  to  Learn  to  Write  from 
Us  ?     Or,  Are   We  to  Learn  from  the  Peasant  Children  ? 
In  trying  to  teach  the  peasant  children  how  to  write  com- 
positions, Tolstoy   soon  discovered,  as  he  thought,  that 
the  children  have  better  ideas  of  the  entity  of  the  story, 
far  more  correctly  and  naturally   develop  the  plot,  and 
express    themselves  in   much    better   language,  than   do 
authors  of  the  literary  class.     The  history  of  the  creation 
of  a  number  of  compositions  is  unfolded  to  us  as  it  took 
place  under  Tolstoy's  guidance,  and  with  an  enthusiasm 
of  surprise  is  pointed  out  to  us  the  marvellous  superiority 
of  the  child  mind  over  that  of  maturer  years.    It  has  been 
remarked  that  what  the  peasant  children  did  was,  under 
the  suggestive  influence  of  Tolstoy  himself,  to  create  in 
his  own  style,  thus  evoking  his  admiration  and  transport. 
But  this  accusation  is  hardly  just.     The  critics  have  been 
misled  by  Tolstoy's  Eousseauan  attitude  as  regards  the 
perfection  of  the  natural  man  to  assume  that  this  bias, 
and  not  the  actual  facts,  lies  at  the  base  of   Tolst6y's 
utterances.     Indeed,  he  himself  says  in  this  essay  that 


272  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

Eousseau's  statement  that  "  Man  is  born  perfect,"  remains 
firm  and  true  as  a  rock.  Proceeding  from  this,  he  argues 
that  man's  perfection  lies  behind,  and  not  in  front  of  him, 
and  that  the  child  is  nearer  to  the  original  harmony  than 
is  man.  Education  is  not  a  development  of  the  harmony, 
but  its  progressive  arrest.  If  this  proposition  is  correct, 
then  it  follows  that  a  child  must  be  more  artistic  than 
man,  for  beauty,  truth,  and  goodness  express  only  the 
harmony  of  relations. 

Still,  however  logical  the  conclusion  may  be,  the  aver- 
age person  will  deny  the  fact  that  the  child  is  born  per- 
fect and  that  education  ruins  this  harmony.  If  so,  let  us 
turn  to  Tolstoy's  riper  judgment  as  expressed  in  What  Is 
Art  ?  There  he  makes  sincerity  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant criterions  of  an  artistic  production.  Now,  sincerity  is 
certainly  to  a  greater  extent  found  in  children  than  in  grown 
people.  What  makes  us  doubt  the  possibility  of  child 
perfection  is  the  fact  that  we  are  in  the  habit  of  consider- 
ing the  adulterated  art,  which  looks  upon  form  and  ex- 
pression as  the  only  points  worthy  of  note,  as  the  only 
art  to  be  inculcated  upon  the  children.  With  Tolstoy,  it 
is  simplicity,  naturalness,  sincerity,  that  are  the  character- 
istics of  real  art,  and  these  are  possessed  by  children 
much  more  than  by  those  who  are  corrupted  by  life.  The 
main  point,  then,  in  teaching  children  to  write  is  not  to 
spoil  them,  not  to  distract  their  attention  by  remarks 
about  the  cleanliness  of  their  copy-books,  or  about  their 
penmanship,  orthography,  structure  of  sentences,  and  logic. 
In  otlier  words,  the  greater  the  freedom  of  the  instruction, 
the  better  the  results. 

This  Tolstoy  tried  to  illustrate  in  his  own  case  by  de- 
scribing in  detail  the  work  done  in  the  school  established 
by  him  (The  School  at  Ydsnaya  Poly  ana  for  the  Months 
of  November  and  December,  1862).  His  experiments  are 
summed  up  in  the  following  statement :  "  I  am  convinced 
that  the  school  ought  not  to  interfere  in  that  part  of  the 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  273 

education  which  belongs  to  the  family ;  that  the  school 
has  no  right  and  ought  not  to  reward  and  punish ;  that 
the  best  police  and  administration  of  a  school  consist  in 
giving  full  hberty  to  the  pupils  to  study  and  settle  their 
disputes  as  they  know  best."  Of  course,  he  did  not  always 
carry  out  his  own  principles,  as  old  habits  proved  too 
strongly  ingrained  to  be  entirely  cast  aside.  None  the 
less,  what  he  attempted  to  do  was  to  make  the  school 
absolutely  free.  Of  the  many  practical  suggestions  based 
on  the  freedom  of  instruction,  where  the  children  are  not 
compelled  to  attend  to  their  lessons  or  to  preserve  any 
order,  none  is  probably  more  significant  than  this,  that  in 
the  ordinary  schools  the  teacher  strives  after  the  method 
of  instruction  which  makes  the  teaching  and  the  manage- 
ment easiest  for  him,  whereas  the  more  convenient  the 
instruction  is  for  the  teacher,  the  more  inconvenient  it  is 
for  the  pupils,  and  only  that  instruction  is  correct  which 
satisfies  the  pupils.  By  this  criterion  the  public  schools 
of  America,  in  spite  of  their  vaunted  superiority,  stand 
condemned,  and  the  frightful  mediocrity  and  low  stand- 
ard of  their  pupils  are  at  once  explained.  The  American 
teacher,  if  he  is  not  of  the  machine-made,  "Normal" 
kind,  will  fiud  a  treasury  of  valuable  information  in  the 
pages  of  this  article ;  but  again  there  is  danger  in  the  ap- 
plication of  this  method  of  disorder,  if,  in  Anglo-Saxon 
fashion,  it  is  not  adapted  as  a  whole,  but  only  as  a  series 
of  practical  suggestions. 

Incidentally  we  get  in  this  essay  two  views,  one  on 
the  Bible,  the  other  on  art,  which  deserve  more  than 
a  passing  notice,  as  they  indicate  the  early  trend  of  his 
mind  in  the  direction  of  an  intimate  study  and  love  of 
Scripture  and  the  early  stage  of  his  negative  attitude 
toward  modern  art,  as  expressed  later  in  Wliat  Is  Art  ? 
Tolstoy  found  that  there  was  no  book  which  interested 
his  pupils  so  much  as  the  Bilde,  and  that  there  was  no 
production  that  united  all  the  sides  of  human  thought  in 


274  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

such  a  compressed  poetical  form  as  is  to  l)e  found  in  the 
Bible.  He  wished  to  use  the  Bible  as  a  model  for  all 
manuals  and  readers  for  children,  and  declared  that  an 
idiomatic  translation  of  the  Bible  would  be  the  best 
popular  book  and  would  be  an  epoch  in  the  history  of 
the  Eussian  nation.  As  to  art,  Tolstoy  even  then  recog- 
nized that  the  art  of  cultured  society  is  all  false,  and  that 
there  is  more  real  art  in  the  popular  chap-book  illus- 
trations, inasmuch  as  they  evoke  a  moral  sentiment, 
whereas  the  Venus  de  Milo  rouses  in  the  masses  nothing 
but  a  legitimate  loathing  for  the  nakedness  and  shame- 
lessness  of  the  woman.  Similarly  he  found  more  real 
music  in  the  popular  songs  than  in  Beethoven's  quartette, 
and  said  that  both  Beethoven  and  Pushkin  "  flatter  our 
freaky  irritability."  For  this  reason,  in  teaching  young 
people  and  the  masses  music,  the  knowledge  of  the  com- 
mon laws  of  music  possessed  by  us,  and  not  the  false  taste 
which  is  developed  in  us,  is  to  be  transmitted  to  them. 

Though  after  1863  Tolstoy  did  not  directly  interest 
himself  in  the  peasant  schools,  liis  interest  in  the  educa- 
tion of  the  masses  remained  unabated,  and  in  1872  he 
brought  out  a  series  of  primers  for  the  use  of  country 
schools.  In  these  he  attempted  to  tell  stories  and  give 
scientific  information,  whether  of  his  own  composition  or 
based  on  borrowing  and  imitation,  with  the  least  literary 
elaboration  and  in  the  simplest  language  possible,  so  as  to 
be  adapted  to  the  mind  of  the  children  of  the  masses. 
Among  these  stories  are  contained  God  Sees  the  Truth, 
but  Docs  Not  Tell  at  Once  and  Tlie  Prisoner  of  the  Cau- 
casus, which  he  later,  under  the  influence  of  a  searching 
criticism  of  artistic  productions,  whether  his  own  or  of 
others,  considered  as  among  the  few  specimens  of  good 
art  produced  by  him.  Here  again  the  reader  may  feel 
inclined  to  differ  from  the  author's  judgment,  considering 
these  stories  for  children  as  in  no  way  comparable  with 
The  Cossacks  or  Tlie  Death  of  Ivan  Ilieh.     But  it  is  the 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  275 

simplicity,  straightforwardness,  sincerity,  and,  in  the  case 
of  God  Sees  the  Truth,  the  religious  sentiment,  vhich 
alone,  according  to  Tolstoy,  determine  the  artistic  value 
of  a  production,  and  as  these  two  stories  please  an  in- 
finitely greater  number  of  men  than  his  other  writings, 
which  are  accessible  to  but  a  few,  Tolstoy's  valuation  of 
his  own  works  is  not  a  mere  freak,  as  has  been  said,  but 
is  entirely  in  keeping  with  his  philosophy,  which  has 
not  materially  changed  in  the  last  half -century. 

In  1875  Tolstoy  once  more  reverted  to  his  pedagogical 
activity  by  writing  an  exhaustive  criticism  of  existing 
methods  of  education  (On  Popular  Education).  He  here 
reiterates  all  his  previous  theories,  finds  that  in  the  cur- 
rent school  systems  the  whole  attention  is  directed  toward 
teaching  the  pupil  what  he  already  knows,  that  the 
German  method  of  instruction  is  not  fit  for  Russian  chil- 
dren, and  that  the  mechanical  side  of  instruction  pre- 
dominates over  the  mental.  He  is  led  once  more  to 
emphasize  the  fundamental  principle  that  "  the  only  cri- 
terion of  pedagogy  is  freedom,  the  only  method  —  experi- 
ence." The  remaining  part  of  the  essay  is  devoted  to  a 
criticism  of  the  village  schools  in  Russia  and  to  an  analy- 
sis of  how  freedom  in  education,  carried  to  its  farthest 
consequences,  would  work  in  raising  the  mental  level  of 
the  peasant  population. 


The  period  during  which  Tolstoy  produced  his  two 
great  novels,  War  and  Peace  and  Anna  Karenin,  was  one 
of  the  tensest  struggle  for  him.  His  opposition  to  civili- 
zation, progress,  the  false  in  art,  the  historical  method, 
and  his  faith  in  the  original  harmony  of  man,  the  supe- 
riority of  the  untutored  masses  to  the  cultured  classes,  the 
freedom,  not  only  of  instruction,  but  also  of  all  activities 
of  life,  tentatively  striven  after  from  his  earliest  youth, 
were  now  firmly  established  and  attested  by  his  expe- 
rience with  his  peasants  and  their  children.  His  spiritual 
life  was  permanently  removed  from  the  sphere  of  social 
forms,  without  as  yet  culminating  in  an  abstract  uniform 
creed.  On  the  other  hand,  his  happy  domestic  life,  his 
pedagogical  and  agricultural  labours,  the  demands  of 
his  impassioned  nature,  held  him  vise-like  in  the  toils 
of  the  present,  submerging  the  spiritual  man  in  the 
carnal.  His  convictions  removed  him  to  a  distant  future 
and  eliminated  him  from  the  companionship  of  men. 
His  life,  rooted  in  the  present,  drew  him  nearer  to  a  more 
vigorous  past,  in  which  men  were  not  yet  affected  by 
harrowing  doubts.  The  two  moods  constantly  intruded 
upon  one  another,  philosophy  poisoning  the  pure  enjoy- 
ment of  life,  and  life  diverting  philosophy  into  lower 
channels. 

Even  before  this  time  Tolstoy  had  never  used  litera- 
ture as  an  amusement  for  himself  or  as  a  means  for  the 
amusement  of  his  readers.  His  literary  works  were  the 
truthful  reproductions  of  his  inner  experiences,  though, 
in  accordance  with  the  artistic  demands  of  the  literary 

276 


LEV   N.   TOLSTOY  277 

coterie  to  which  he  belonged,  he  clothed  these  in  an 
artistic  form.  When  the  conveyance  of  his  convictions 
seemed  to  him  to  be  more  urgent  than  the  conveyance  of 
his  sensations,  as  was  the  case  with  his  pedagogical 
essays,  and  much  later  with  his  religious  and  social 
ideas,  he  consciously  abandoned  the  artistic  form  and 
even  neglected  the  literary  norm  in  his  desire  to  tell  the 
whole  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth. 

He  had  for  a  long  time  dreamed  of  a  happy  domestic 
life,  but  his  marriage,  though  it  gave  him  everything  a 
man  could  wish  for,  failed  to  allay  his  doubts,  which  fre- 
quently verged  on  despair.  His  associations  with  the 
peasants,  though  they  strengthened  his  dislike  for  the 
artificial  forms  of  society,  failed  to  provide  him  with  a 
ready  solution  of  the  problems  which  had  driven  him 
back  to  the  country.  His  study  of  history,  of  Greek,  of 
the  drama,  to  which  he  had  recourse  in  the  desire  to 
widen  his  mental  horizon,  only  filled  him  with  greater 
contempt  for  the  self-assertiveness  of  the  sciences  and 
arts,  and  he  set  out  to  search  for  a  new  meaning  of  life, 
one  which  would  be  independent  of  the  vagaries  of  science. 
Tormented  as  he  was  with  an  unsatisfied  spiritual  desire, 
his  earthly  bonds  evoked  before  him  visions,  such  as 
come  to  the  saintly  hermit  amidst  his  fasts  and  devo- 
tions :  pictures  of  a  happy,  innocent  youth,  the  pleasures 
of  manly  sport,  the  din  and  strife  of  battle. 

It  is  this  titanic  inward  struggle,  this  reaching  out  for 
a  distant  and  impossible  happiness,  this  clutching  and 
hugging  of  an  irretrievable  past,  this  incorporeal  objec- 
tivity of  thought  and  concentrated  subjectivity  of  feeling 
which  was  going  on  in  him,  that  Tolstoy  externally  and 
internally  focused  in  his  two  great  novels,  —  externally, 
in  the  strange  mixture  of  novel  and  history,  of  dialogue 
and  reflection,  of  calm  contemplation  and  bitter  arraign- 
ment, and  internally,  in  the  strivings  of  his  well-meaning, 
vacillating,  temperamentally  unhappy  heroes,  Pierre  and 


278  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

Levin.  War  and  Peace  and  Anna  Karenin  are  not  novels 
of  the  ordinary  kiud,  —  a  plot,  a  dose  of  love,  a  dash  of 
■wickedness,  —  but  records  of  mental  experiences,  set  off 
by  a  distressing,  false,  perverted  reality.  The  reader, 
guided  by  the  current  idea  of  what  constitutes  a  novel,  is 
misled  into  believing  that  the  plot,  the  love-story,  the 
delineation  of  character,  are  the  essential  parts  of  Tolstoy's 
narrative,  and  is  apt  to  look  upon  tlie  philosophical  digres- 
sions and  the  microscopic  details  of  certain  scenes  as 
useless  and  halting  incidents  in  an  otherwise  grand  con- 
ception. 

But  the  process  of  Tolstoy's  creation  is  the  very  reverse 
of  the  one  pursued  by  the  traditional  art.  Tolstoy  is 
interested  in  himself  alone,  not  in  the  egoistical  sense 
of  self-sufficiency,  but  as  the  only  safe  criterion  of  the 
world  outside.  His  own  experiences,  his  own  spiritual 
advancement,  his  own  struggle  with  the  flesh,  and  the 
ascertainment  of  the  truth,  religious,  moral,  social,  as  it 
appears  to  him,  are  the  subjects  that  have  interested  him 
exclusively  from  the  time  he  wrote  ChildJwod,  and  it  is 
only  the  massive  power  of  his  artistic  genius,  working 
within  him  in  spite  of  himself,  that  causes  him  to-  clothe 
his  autobiography,  considered  from  various  aspects,  in  the 
form  of  a  connected  story  of  novelistic  incidents.  Ee- 
garded  as  novels  merely.  War  and  Peace  and  Anna 
Karenin  lack  uniformity  and  unity  of  action,  but  viewed 
as  annals  of  life,  their  artistic  setting  and  the  elaboration 
of  details  add  vividness  and  relief  to  the  abstract  striv- 
ing of  a  searching  soul.  The  novels,  like  bulbous  plants, 
consist  of  a  series  of  superimposed  integuments :  remove 
these  one  by  one,  and  the  pith  will  be  reached,  —  the 
essence,  and  that  will  invariably  be  the  author  himself. 

Let  us  take  War  and  Peace,  Its  genealogy  is  inter- 
esting :  Tolstoy  began  by  investigating  the  history  of  the 
Decembrists,  which,  being  the  history  of  a  revolt,  was 
eminently  adapted  to  his  mood  of  revolt  against  the  exist- 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  279 

ing  order.  He  was  taken  back  to  the  beginniugs  of  this 
revolt,  to  the  troubled  time  of  the  French  invasioE,  and  to 
The  Year  1805,  which  logically  antedated  the  incidents 
he  wished  to  develop.  He  had  intended  to  work  out  the 
history  of  the  national  opposition  to  the  political  condi- 
tions of  the  first  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century,  in 
order  to  find  in  them  a  counterpart  or  an  explanation  for 
his  own  negative  attitude.  Instead,  he  was  led  to  study 
the  great  national  struggle,  the  War,  which  gave  him  the 
artistic  background  for  his  novel ;  but  he  soon  discovered 
that  in  doing  so  he  was  drawn  away  from  himself  to  a 
world  of  struggle  outside  himself,  and  he  felt  constrained, 
after  having  laboriously  brought  Pierre,  a  reflection  of  his 
own  inner  hfe,  out  of  the  tangle  and  contention  of  histori- 
cal forces,  to  return  to  the  treatment  of  his  inward  strife, 
—  to  Peace.  But  his  own  struggles,  at  the  time  the  novel 
was  ended,  were  not  complete,  and  so,  while  War  fur- 
nishes us  with  a  rounded  narrative  of  historical  events. 
Peace,  like  life  itself,  leaves  us  in  the  middle,  after  bring- 
ing us  down  to  the  period  in  the  author's  life  when  the 
literary  exigencies  of  the  novel,  already  overtaxed,  de- 
manded an  ending. 

In  The  School  at  Ydsnaya  Polydna  Tolstoy  tells  us  of 
his  idea  of  teaching  history  in  the  following  words  :  "  I  have 
also  made  experiments  in  teaching  modern  history,  and 
they  have  been  very  successful.  I  told  them  the  history 
of  the  Crimean  campaign,  and  the  reign  of  Emperor  Nich- 
olas, and  the  year  1812.  All  this  I  told  almost  in  a  fairy- 
tale tone,  as  a  rule,  historically  incorrect,  and  with  the 
events  grouped  about  some  one  person.  The  greatest  suc- 
cess was  obtained,  as  was  to  have  been  expected,  by  the 
story  of  the  war  with  Napoleon."  Here  we  have,  not  only 
an  explanation  why  the  year  1812  was  chosen  by  him  as 
the  central  event  for  his  novel,  but  also  an  exposition 
of  the  manner  in  which  he  treated  historical  incidents : 
they  were  grouped  about  some  one  person  and  were  not 


280  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

necessarily  historically  correct.  This  verdict  will  hold  in 
regard  to  the  historical  background  of  War  and  Peace, 
where  historical  accuracy,  however  cautiously  striven  after 
by  the  author,  is  not  to  be  looked  for,  and  where  incidents 
are  grouped  about  Napoleon,  Alexander  I.,  Kutuzov,  Pierre, 
as  persons  who  are  most  adapted  to  the  writer's  purpose. 
Tolstoy  has  been  accused  of  having  made  a  number  of 
historical  blunders,  and  a  prominent  general  has  pointed 
out  mistakes  of  a  mihtary  character,  such  as  a  wrong  dis- 
position of  the  forces  at  Borodino.  It  is  quite  likely  that 
Tolstoy  himself  was  acquainted  with  his  shortcomings  at 
the  time  of  his  writing,  but  that  he  preferred  occasionally 
to  depart  from  the  historical  truth,  for  the  sake  of  a  more 
artistic  and  even  more  philosophical  treatment  of  his 
subject.^ 

Indeed,  many  truths  are  conveyed  to  us  by  him  that 
strike  us  more  forcibly  and  affect  us  more  powerfully  than 
the  mere  enumeration  of  actual  occurrences.  If  he  de- 
scribes battles,  which  stand  out  with  harrowing  vividness, 
he  impresses  us  with  the  idea  that  the  issue  of  a  battle,  the 
victory  or  the  defeat,  is  frequently  a  matter  of  mere  guess- 
work, that  orders  are  never  executed  as  intended,  that 
battles  never  take  place  as  planned,  that  personal  bravery 
counts  for  little,  that  officers  are  seldom  distinguished  for 
courage.  If  the  Sevastopol  sketches  filled  us  with  horror 
at  the  recital  of  the  deadly  effect  of  war,  the  present 
treatment  of  war  adds  contempt  for  the  whole  so-called 
military  science  and  makes  us  look  with  pity  and  disre- 
spect upon  the  military  leaders.  Similarly  we  are  made 
to  scale  down  our  regard  for  the  genius  of  Napoleon,  who 
is  represented  to  us  as  a  man  possessed  of  petty  human 
weaknesses  and  an  exalted  opinion  of  himself.  For  Na- 
poleon he  had  the  same  loathing  that  later  he  expressed 

1  Only  after  this  chapter  was  written  did  the  translator  discover  Tol- 
stdy's  own  statement  concerning  War  and  Peace  (see  introduction  to 
Vol.  v.),  which  corroborates  the  above  mentioned  opinion. 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  281 

for  the  blasphemers  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  he  could  not 
help  but  think  of  Napoleon  as  the  personification  of  vio- 
lence and  militarism.  He  is  not  even  wilHug  to  ascribe 
to  him  any  personal  influence  upon  the  eastward  and 
westward  movements  of  the  nations,  or  upon  the  aban- 
donment and  conflagration  of  Moscow.  If  in  his  former 
sketches  war  was  realistically  painted  from  within,  it  now 
is  divested  of  its  last  trace  of  usefulness  and  is  deprived 
of  every  justification. 

In  a  similar  manner  he  treats  the  deleterious  effects  of 
the  governmental  power.  He  heaps  equal  ridicule  upon 
the  municipal  regulations  of  Napoleon  during  his  stay  in 
Moscow  and  upon  quarrelsome,  ambitious,  selfish  Eos- 
topchin,  who  turns  poor  Vereshchagin  over  to  the  fury 
of  the  mob.  It  is  true,  he  depicts  Alexander  I.  as  a  gen- 
erous Tsar,  beloved  by  his  subjects ;  but  there  is  nothing 
in  the  picture  to  indicate  that  Alexander  I.  was  possessed 
of  any  positive  characteristics,  and  the  awe  inspired  by  his 
presence  reminds  one  of  that  hypnotization  which  later  he 
put  at  the  base  of  all  governmental  power.  Diplomacy 
is  by  him  robbed  of  all  significance,  and  diplomats  are 
either  small-witted  gossips  or  downright  fools.  Where  he 
is  not  hampered  by  the  national  patriotism,  which  he,  how- 
ever, does  not  seem  to  share,  he  finds  nothing  attractive 
or  excusable  in  the  whole  governmental  machinery :  Na- 
poleon is  a  petty  l)ourgeois,  Murat  a  feeble,  pompous 
prince,  and  the  Emperor  of  Austria  a  timid  simpleton ; 
councils  of  war  are  assemblies  of  inept  generals  more  con- 
cerned about  personal  preferments  and  the  exactness  of 
their  military  operations  than  about  beneficial  results ; 
and  life  proceeds  fairly  well  without  the  protection  of 
the  authorities. 

In  respect  to  society  he  assumes  the  same  negative  atti- 
tude as  before.  The  higher  circle  which  congregated  at 
the  house  of  Madame  Scherer,  the  superficial  society 
which  Andrdy   Bolkdnski  shuns,  the  profligate  set  with 


282  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

whom  Pierre  associates  for  a  time,  the  temporizing  and 
fawning  Prince  Vasili  and  his  brood  of  degenerate  chil- 
dren, Helfene  and  her  following  of  debauchees,  are  all 
equally  intended  as  deterrents  from  that  artificial  world 
of  men  who  constitute  the  upper  classes  of  the  metropoli- 
tan population.  As  opposed  to  these,  he  dwells  with 
sympathy  upon  the  well-meant,  mystic  activity  of  the 
Mason  Bazdy^ev,  though  the  Masons  at  large  present 
themselves  to  him  as  worldly  men  who  are  bent  upon  the 
advancement  of  their  own  petty  purposes,  and  he  can  find 
even  some  good  in  the  brutally  despotic  type  of  the  elder 
Bolkdnski,  in  whom  there  lies  at  least  the  germ  of  a  ster- 
hng  second  generation,  represented  by  Andrt^y  and  Marya. 
Above  all,  it  is  the  simple-minded  family  of  the  Eostovs, 
in  whom  he  sees  the  prototype  of  his  own,  that  rivets 
most  of  his  attention. 

There  is  probably  nothing  in  War  and  Peace  that  sur- 
passes the  delicate  psychological  discrimination  with  which 
he  depicts  family  groups.  There  is  certainly  an  abyss 
between  religiously  fervent  Marya  and  self-poised  Andrey 
on  the  one  hand,  and  their  unyielding,  tyrannical  father 
on  the  other,  and  yet  the  reader  feels  constantly  that-  they 
are  the  same  positive  characters,  but  under  changed  con- 
ditions of  time.  How  absolutely  one  and  the  same  are 
Prince  Vasili,  with  his  insinuating  pressure  of  the  hand, 
and  unconscionable,  half-witted,  degenerate  Ippolit,  and 
fleshly,  vulgar,  debauched  H^lene  !  And  who  does  not 
see  the  blood  identity  of  the  ingenuous  family  of  the 
Eostovs,  with  the  good-natured  father,  the  fond  and  impas- 
sioned mother,  impetuous  and  enthusiastic  Nikolay,  and 
childishly  frank  P^tya,  and  thoughtless  and  yet  lovable 
Natasha,  who  later  makes  such  an  excellent  mother,  and 
even  petulant  Vy(^ra,  who,  under  the  influence  of  her  cal- 
culating German  husband,  becomes  a  somewhat  narrow- 
minded,  but  yielding  wife  ? 

All  this  splendid  setting  of  history  and  society  serves 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  283 

only  as  a  background  for  his  hero,  Pierre,  who  is  Tolstoy 
historically  removed.  But  Pierre  is  not  all  of  Tolstoy. 
Just  as  in  Boyhood  and  Youth  Irt^nev  and  Nekhlyiidov 
represent  two  sides  of  the  same  man,  so  the  sterner,  more 
spiritual  aspect  of  the  author  was  depicted  in  Andr^y 
Bolkdnski,  whose  very  death  thoughts  anticipate  the  later 
conceptions  of  the  author  himself,  just  as  homely,  patient, 
long-suffering,  devoted  ]\Iarya  is  an  exact  reproduction  of 
his  mother,  of  whom  he  knew  only  from  hearsay.  The 
more  earthly,  vacillating,  helpless,  earnestly  striving  Pierre 
is  Tolstoy  with  all  the  complexity  of  his  insoluble  ques- 
tions and  contradictory  sentiments.  He  suffers  constantly, 
not  only  because  he  sees  the  vapidity  of  society  life  about 
him  and  the  calamities  entailed  by  war  and  the  wretched- 
ness of  the  peasants,  but  also  because  he  vainly  strives 
after  religious  and  moral  perfection,  under  the  guidance  of 
his  Masonic  friends,  and  is  utterly  at  a  loss  how  to  help 
the  peasants,  and  fails  to  acquire  any  definite  habits  or 
to  find  any  appropriate  field  of  action  for  himself.  His 
marriage  to  Helfeue  is  an  utter  failure,  and  he  cannot  tear 
himself  away  from  that  corrupt  society  in  the  meshes  of 
which  he  is  caught  by  his  wife  and  her  family.  At  last 
his  salvation  comes.  Natasha,  intended  for  the  sterner 
Audrey,  loses  him  through  her  own  thoughtlessness,  and 
makes  a  good  wife  for  the  less  spiritual  Pierre.  In  the 
bosom  of  his  family,  with  all  its  petty  cares  and  its  hum- 
drum hfe,  he  seeks  oblivion  from  the  doubts  that  have 
beset  him  heretofore.  The  novel  ends  where  Tolstoy's 
own  happy  domestic  life  left  him  at  the  time  that  he  com- 
pleted War  and  Peace. 

But  the  ideal  toward  which  even  then  Tolstoy  tended 
was  neither  Pierre  nor  Audrey,  but  Platon  Karataev,  the 
simple  peasant  of  the  type  of  Natalya  S^vishna,  whose 
life  of  meekness  and  submission  to  fate  comes  nearest  to 
the  Christian  ideal  preached  by  the  Gospel.  So  far  Platon 
was  still  an  unattainable  perfection,  and  served  for  Pierre- 


284  LEV  N.  tolst(5y 

Tolstoy  as  a  court  of  final  appeal  in  matters  of  conduct. 
For  woman  he  establishes  as  the  highest  ideal  the  con- 
dition of  motherhood,  in  which  all  other  sides  of  life  are 
lost  sight  of  and  are  of  little  importance.  His  types  of 
women  are,  outside  of  the  negligible,  corrupt  H^lfene  and 
her  like,  of  two  classes :  either  the  women  possess  the 
precise,  single-minded,  loyal  characteristics  of  Sonya,  and 
then,  however  attractive  they  must  appear  to  an  Anglo- 
Saxon,  who  would  invariably  choose  them  for  heroines, 
they  are  declared  by  Tolstoy  to  be  "  sterile "  and  are 
ruthlessly  cast  aside  ;  or  they  are  temperamentally  change- 
able and  unaccountable  in  their  atfections,  which  are 
generally  bestowed  upon  the  wrong  persons,  but  super- 
latively endowed  with  the  animal  instinct  of  maternity, 
to  which  they  finally  abandon  themselves  to  the  exclusion 
of  every  other  sentiment.  Even  such  is  Natasha.  As 
militarism,  carnage,  death  are  the  harvest  of  War,  so 
domesticity  is  the  apotheosis  of  Peace,  —  that  domesticity 
which  Tolstoy  dreamed  of  in  the  Cossacks  and  hoped  for 
in  Domestic  Haj^inness. 

Thus  War  and  Peace  is  an  enlarged  diary  of  inner 
experiences  and  philosophic  strivings.  The  chosen  career 
of  a  novelist  kept  Tolstoy  within  the  narrow  frame  of  a 
novel,  and  prevented  him  from  expatiating  upon  his  theme 
in  a  scientific  treatise,  which,  besides,  he  could  not  have 
done  at  that  period,  as  his  dreams,  hopes,  and  ideas  had 
not  yet  become  sufficiently  concrete  for  such  an  objective 
treatment.  Viewed  from  the  standpoint  of  an  artistic 
production.  War  and  Peace  naturally  lacks  completeness ; 
but  if  it  is  viewed  as  an  elaboration  of  a  diary  of  inner 
experiences,  these  defects  vanish,  and  we  are  left  to  admire 
the  many  artistic  details  in  which  the  novel  abounds  to 
an  extraordinary  degree.  The  vivid  narration  of  battle 
scenes,  the  grandeur  and  awe  of  Andr^y's  illness  and 
death,  and  the  deaths  of  P^tya  and  Platon,  the  minute 
descriptions  of  natural  scenery  and  of  sports,  in  which  he 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  285 

always  delights,  the  exquisite  dehneation  of  character, 
are  magnificent  mosaics  in  the  great  national  epic,  which 
throughout  bears  witness  to  the  author's  gigantic  genius 
during  the  period  of  tense  internal  struggle  toward  self- 
perfection. 

Anna  Karenin  brings  us  one  step  nearer  to  the  author's 
mental  transformation.     His  domestic  happiness  had  not 
lost  any  o'f  its  charms  and  did  not  cease  to  give  him  a 
full  measure  of  contentment ;  but  the  eternal  questions 
demanded  an  answer  with  ever  greater  persistency,  and 
to  this  answer  Tolstoy  felt  himself  obliged  to  give  utter- 
ance in  a  novel  which  would  represent  his  own  state  and 
the  condition  of  society  in  a  more  contemporaneous  form 
than  JVar  and  Peace.  The  title  of  the  novel  is  misleading, 
since  it  is  not  Anna  Karenin  who  is  the  centre  of  it,  but 
Levin.     Indeed,  the  novel  proceeds  just  as  well  without 
Anna  as  it  does  with  her.     Just  as  War  and  Peace  began 
with  Tlie  Year  1805,  so  the  present  novel  was  evidently 
intended  as  a  portrayal  of  manners  of  society,  but,  as  it 
proceeded,  Tolstoy,  as  usual,  fell  back  upon  himself  and 
his  own  inner  life,  which  begged  for  expression,  and  the 
story  continued  to  deal  with  Levin  alone,  and  came  to  a 
stop  when  Tolstoy's  own  experiences  did  not  warrant  any 
further  analysis :  it  stops  with  the  day  when  Tolstoy  wrote 
the  last  chapter,  and  thus  is  a  valuable  contribution  to 
the  study  of  the  author's  mental  state  previous  to  his 
so-called  conversion. 

As  a  mere  novel,  Anna  Karenin  is  more  perfect  than 
War  and  Peace.  The  long  disquisitions  are  avoided,  and 
whatever  didacticism  there  is  scattered  through  its  pages 
is  deftly  dealt  out  in  the  form  of  conversations.  The 
plot  itself  is  more  uniform,  and  the  two  elements  of  which 
it  is  composed,  the  story  of  the  fall  of  a  woman  and  the 
autobiography  of  Levin,  are  blended  together  without 
displaying  the  sutures  as  in  the  older  novel.  Otherwise 
it  contains  the  same  component  parts  as  before,  —  the 


286 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 


minute  description  of  special  incidents,  such  as  the  hunt, 
the  races,  the  field  work,  the  representation  of  city  life  as 
undesirable  and  of  an  activity  in  the  country  as  alone 
worthy  of  man,  the  emphatic  contempt  for  the  professions 
and  for  so-called  science  and  the  laudation  of  the  hfe  of 
the  simple  peasant.  The  treatment  of  the  characters  is 
the  same  as  before,  but  their  moderuness  brings  them 
nearer  to  the  reader  than  did  the  historical  background  of 
the  first  novel. 

The  plot  is  unobtrusively  told.  Anna  Kar^nin,  becom- 
ing untrue  to  her  marriage  vows  and  allying  herself  with 
Vronski,  with  whom  she  becomes  infatuated,  suffers  the 
natural  punishment  for. her  crime,  and  in  a  moment  of 
despair  commits  suicide.  But  the  situations  and  the 
denouement  are  not  forced.  Anna  is  more  sinned  against 
than  sinning,  for  her  cold,  precise  husband  has  not  been 
able  to  foster  love  in  his  warm-hearted  wife.  Anna  is 
not  a  criminal,  and  does  not  rush  headlong  into  the  com- 
mission of  a  breach  of  morality,  but  is  inevitably  drawn 
into  the  abyss  by  the  force  of  circumstances.  Nor  is 
Vronski  an  unconscionable  wretch :  his  education,  the 
levity  of  the  society  in  which  he  moves,  and  his  own  impas- 
sioned nature  cause  him  to  enter  without  any  pangs  of 
conscience  into  a  liaison  with  a  married  woman  ;  but  he  is 
staunch  to  his  love  and  would  fain  remain  the  lover  he 
was,  if  Anna's  jealousy  and  irritation  did  not  make  an 
understanding  impossible.  Anna  suffers  for  her  crime, 
not  as  a  just  retribution  for  sinning,  but  because  the 
crime  itself  is  the  punishment,  and  the  end  is  only  the 
final  solution  of  a  protracted  period  of  suffering. 

Nor  does  the  author  show  any  greater  animus  against 
the  other  characters  who  move  on  a  lower  stage  of  life : 
Stiva  Oblonski,  with  his  infidelity  to  his  wife,  his  desire 
to  pass  life  without  any  exertion  or  labour,  his  punning 
in  the  face  of  the  most  serious  circumstances,  is  not  at  all 
the  bad  man  we  should  imagine  him  to  be.     Disputatious 


LEY   N.    TOLSTOY  287 

Katavasov,  liheral  Koznysli^v,  punctilious  Kar^nin,  the 
doctor,  the  lawyer,  though  with  none  of  these  can  the 
author  agi-ee,  are  delineated  with  the  greatest  fairness. 
As  for  the  women,  we  have  the  same  types  as  before : 
Varenka  is  a  modernized  Sony  a,  Kitty  is  no  other  than 
Natasha,  and  Dolly  is  temperamentally  exactly  like  the 
mother  of  the  Eostovs.  Again  it  is  motherhood  that 
is  preached  as  the  highest  privilege  and  virtue  of  a 
woman,  and  the  very  punishment  for  Anna's  crime  con- 
sists in  her  being  compelled  to  rehnquish  the  high  office 
of  maternity. 

It  is,  however.  Levin,  as  formerly  Pierre,  who  comes  in 
for  the  author's  fullest  share  of  attention.  He  knows 
Levin  best,  and  he  is  interested  in  analyzing  Levin's  state 
of  mind,  in  order  later  to  revert  to  another  reflection  of 
himself  at  a  more  advanced  stage  of  his  development. 
Levin,  like  Pierre,  is  awkward,  frank,  sensitive,  fond  of 
domestic  life,  and  in  search  after  truth.  But  he  has  pro- 
ceeded farther  in  his  convictions  concerning  the  futility 
of  participating  in  political  affairs,  is  more  decidedly  set 
against  city  life,  and  finally  takes  refuge  against  his 
besetting  doubts  in  faith.  He  tries  to  live  a  truly  Chris- 
tian life,  but  he  is  not  temperamentally  prepared  to  live 
up  to  his  own  ideals,  and  there  are  frequent  reversions  to 
his  older  moods.  "  Call  it  faith,"  he  says  of  his  own 
mental  condition,  "  or  not,  —  I  do  not  know  w^hat  it  is, — 
but  this  feeling  has  just  as  imperceptibly  entered  through 
suffering  and  has  taken  up  a  firm  abode  in  my  heart.  I 
shall  be  as  angry  with  Ivan  the  coachman,  shall  discuss 
as  before,  shall  express  my  thoughts  as  inappropriately  as 
before ;  there  will  be  the  same  wall  between  the  holy  of 
holies  of  my  soul  and  others,  even  my  wife ;  I  shall  be 
accusing  her  as  much  because  of  my  own  fright,  and  then 
shall  repent  of  it ;  I  shall  just  as  much  fail  to  compre- 
hend through  reason  why  I  Jjray  and  continue  praying, 
—  but  my  hfe,  my  whole  life,  independently  of  everything 


288  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

that  may  happen  to  me,  every  minute  of  it,  is  now  no 
longer  senseless,  as  it  has  heen,  but  has  an  unquestionable 
meaning  from  the  good,  which  it  is  in  my  power  to  invest 
it  with." 

After  such  a  confession  only  one  of  two  things  could 
have  happened :  either  Tolstoy  would  in  the  future  recant 
his  striving  after  perfection,  and  then  there  would  be 
room  left  for  at  least  another  great  novel,  or  he  must  pro- 
ceed still  farther  and  higher  along  the  ladder  of  religious 
evolution,  where  rehgion  becomes  the  all-absorbing  sub- 
ject of  his  thoughts,  and  the  novel  is  no  longer  adequate 
for  a  full  expression  of  his  profound  convictions.  It  is  the 
latter  that  has  happened. 


VIL 

A  FEW  extracts  from  Tolstoy's  letters  to  Fet  during  the 
year  1879  will  serve  as  corroboratives  or  correctives  of 
the  Confession  which  he  published  in  the  same  year. 

"  In  my  last  letter  I  wrote  you  that  I  should  not  like 
to  return  to  the  grave,  because  there  would  still  be  left 
my  relations  to  God." 

"  God  knows  where  my  Decemhrists  are.    I  do  not  even 

think  of  them,  and  if  I  did  think  of  them,  and  should 

write,  I  flatter  myself  with  the  hope  that  my  spirit  alone, 

of  which  the  writing  would  smack,  would  l3e  intolerable 

for  those  who  shoot  people  for  the  good  of  humanity. 

How  right  the  peasants  and  you  are,  in  saying  that  the 

masters  shoot,  not  for  what  has  been  taken  away,  but 

because  the  peasants  have  been  taken  away.     But  I  must 

say,  I  conscientiously  do  not  read  any  papers  now,  and  I 

consider  it  my  duty  to  turn  everybody  away  from  this 

deleterious  habit.     There  sits  an  old  man,  a  good  fellow, 

in  Vorob^vka ;    he  has   transfused   in  his   mind  two  or 

three  pages  of  Schopenhauer  and  has  sent  them  forth  in 

Eussian,  has  finished   a  party  at  billiards,  has  killed  a 

snipe,  has  enjoyed  the  sight  of  a  colt  from  Zakras,  and 

is  sitting  with  his  wife  drinking  delicious  tea,  smoking, 

beloved  by  all  and  loving  all,  and  suddenly  they  bring  in 

an  ill-smelling,  damp  sheet,  —  it  pains  the  hands  and  the 

eyes,  and  in  the  heart  there  is  a  malice  of  condemnations, 

a  sensation  of  alienation,  a  feeling  that  he  does  not  love 

any  one,  and  that  no  one  loves  him,  and  he  begins  to  speak, 

and  speaks,  and  is   angry,  and  suffers.      That  must  be 

given  up.     It  will  be  better  so." 

289 


290  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

"I  have  not  for  a  long  time  enjoyed  God's  world  so 
much  as  this  year.  I  stand  with  mouth  wide  open, 
marvelling  and  afraid  to  move,  for  fear  of  missing  some- 
thing." 

"  If  I  am  that  falcon  and  if,  as  follows  from  the  rest, 
my  bold  flight  consists  in  this,  that  I  deny  real  life,  I 
must  defend  myself.  I  do  not  deny  real  life,  nor  the 
labour  which  is  necessary  for  the  support  of  this  life ;  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  a  great  part  of  your  life  and  of  mine 
is  filled  with  gratifications,  not  of  natural  needs,  but  of 
such  as  are  artificially  grafted  upon  us  by  our  education 
and  by  needs  invented  by  us  and  grown  into  a  habit,  and 
that  nine-tenths  of  the  labour  put  by  us  on  the  gratifica- 
tion of  these  needs  is  idle  labour.  I  should  like  to  be 
firmly  convinced  that  I  give  more  to  men  than  I  receive 
from  them ;  but  as  I  feel  myself  very  prone  to  value  my 
own  work  very  highly  and  the  work  of  others  very  low,  I 
do  not  hope  by  a  mere  increase  of  my  labour  and  a 
choice  of  harder  w^ork  to  convince  myself  that  others  will 
not  be  at  a  disadvantage  in  squaring  up  with  me  (I  shall 
by  all  means  assure  myself  that  the  work  which  I  like  is 
the  most  necessary  and  difficult) ;  I  should  like  to  take 
as  little  as  possible  from  others  and  to  work  as  little  as 
possible  for  the  gratification  of  my  needs,  and  I  think 
that  it  would  thus  be  easiest  not  to  blunder." 

"  I  have  successfully  recommended  to  you  the  reading  of 
The  TJiousand  and  One  Nights  and  Pascal ;  both  have  not 
exactly  pleased  you,  but  come  up  to  your  taste.  Now  I 
intend  to  offer  you  a  book  which  no  one  else  has  yet  read 
and  which  I  read  the  other  day  for  the  first  time  and  still 
continue  to  read  and  to  go  into  ecstasies  over ;  I  hope 
that  this,  too,  will  be  to  your  liking,  the  more  so 
since  it  has  much  in  common  with  Schopenhauer :  this  is 
Solomon's  Proverbs,  Ecclesiastes,  and  the  Book  of  Wis- 
dom,—  it  is  impossible  to  find  anything  more  modern 
than  these ;  but  if  you  read  them,  read  them  in  Slavic. 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  291 

I  have  a  modern  Eussian  translation,  but  it  is  bad.  The 
English  translation  is  bad,  too.  If  you  had  a  Greek 
translation,  you  would  see  -what  it  is." 

A  year  later,  in  1880,  he  wrote:  "Now  it  is  summer, 
and,  as  usual,  life  fills  me  with  transport  and  I  forget  to 
work.  This  year  I  have  struggled  for  a  long  time,  but 
the  beauty  of  the  world  has  conquered  me." 

By  this  time  My  Confession  was  written,  and  the  founda- 
tion was  laid  for  the  Critique  of  Dogmatic  llicology  and 
TJie  Four  Gospels  Harvionized  and  Translated.  In  view  of 
the  above  extracts  and  of  what  we  have  learned  from  the 
analysis  of  Tolstoy's  previous  life  and  work,  the  Confes- 
sion has  to  be  taken  with  some  des^ree  of  caution.  There 
is  no  untruth  in  it  in  the  main,  but  the  suddenness  of  the 
religious  conversion,  the  intensity  of  his  despair,  the  sal- 
vation through  faith,  are  all  the  result  of  a  retrospective 
emotional  attitude  under  the  influence  of  the  last,  most 
potent  illumination.  But  in  reality  there  is  nothing  new 
or  unforeseen  in  his  new  phase  of  life.  His  religiousness 
was  expressed  by  him  in  his  first  production.  Childhood, 
and  was  emphasized  again  and  again  in  War  and  Peace 
and  in  Anna  Karenin.  His  suicidal  intentions  date  back- 
to  the  Memoirs  of  a  Martcer  and  are  touched  upon  in  the 
Cossacks  and  further  developed  in  Anna  Karenin.  His 
negative  attitude  toward  civilization  and  progress,  his  op- 
position to  violence  in  every  form,  his  temperamental 
contempt  for' the  lie  in  every  shape,  have  always  been  the 
same.  What  is  it,  then,  that  took  place  in  the  year  1879 
which  led  to  his  Confession  and  to  the  so-called  second 
part  of  his  hfe  and  activity  that  both  by  him  and  the 
critics  are  assumed  to  be  something  quite  distinct  from 
the  first  part  ? 

The  answer  is  found  in  the  dual  nature  of  Tolst6y  ;  he 
is  intensely  subjective,  unable  at  any  time  to  get  away 
from  himself,  analyzing,  probing,  and  chastizing  himself 
continuously,  until  his  whole  spiritual  being  has  become 


292  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

a  most  delicate  instrumeut  for  the  reception  of  the  most 
advanced  truths;  on  the  other  hand,  or,  perhaps,  on 
account  of  this  great  receptiveness  of  his  nature,  he  more 
than  any  one  else  appears  as  the  product  of  what  is  best 
in  our  Christian  civihzation.  Ever  since  the  time  of 
Christ,  to  use  a  paradox,  the  whole  of  Europe  and  the 
church  Christianity  have  been  vivified  by  that  small 
leaven  of  the  Gospel  Christianity  which  through  the  ages 
has  kept  the  world  from  breaking  up  into  cliaos  and 
which  from  time  to  time  has  borne  fruit  in  the  creation 
of  those  dissenting  sects  that  have  sought  a  greater  ap- 
proximation with  the  Gospel.  So,  too,  the  best  minds 
have  constantly  striven  after  that  truth  which  the  church 
Christianity  has  vainly  tried  to  banish  from  the  original 
precepts  of  Jesus.  Eousseau  even,  with  his  return  to 
Nature  and  his  simplicity  of  life,  represents  an  element 
of  that  unconscious  tendency  toward  a  primitive  Chris- 
tianity. 

By  dint  of  his  extreme  sensitiveness,  Tolstoy  from  his 
earliest  youth  came  under  the  influence  of  all  the  factors 
that  made  for  a  simple  Christianity.  His  constitutional 
opposition  to  all  the  falseness  in  society,  science,  and  art, 
his  strong  antipathy  to  violence  in  whatever  form,  his 
fervent  desire  to  comprehend  the  cause  of  all  causes, 
his  religious  strivings  and  his  religious  doubts  alike,  all 
of  these  lay  in  the  direct  line  of  his  Christian  life,  with- 
out his  being  able  to  see  his  path  ahead  of  him.  And 
it  is  because  he  was  unable  to  see  the  unifying  principle 
of  his  disjointed  thoughts  and  sentiments  that  he  suffered 
and  wavered  and  fell  into  despair.  At  times,  indeed,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  his  opposition  to  the  existing  order 
was  merely  temperamental,  and  that  he  himself  was  to 
blame  for  his  departures.  Whenever  he  was  assailed  by 
this  periodic  doubt,  he  gave  vent  to  his  mood  in  a  new 
literary  production,  in  every  one  of  which  there  is  de- 
picted that  inner  struggle  which  just  then  was  going  on 


LEV   N.   TOLSTOY  293 

in  him.  Still  he  never  could  be  satisfied,  for  no  sooner 
had  he  overcome  one  period  of  doubt  than  another  over- 
came him. 

And  subduing  his  temporary  acute  stages  of  despair, 
which,  as  he  says,  and  as  we  learn  iudiructly  from  his 
earlier  writings,  led  him  to  the  contemplation  of  suicide, 
he  struggled  on  and  on.  Then  Schopenhauer  gave  him 
some  temporary  relief,  for  here  he  found  many  things 
united  that  in  him  had  lived  isolated.  And  then  Solo- 
mon's Proverbs  and  Ecclesiastes  and  the  liook  of  Wis- 
dom, taken  up  by  mere  chance,  brought  him  nearer  to 
the  solution  of  those  questions  which  had  tormented  him 
so  long.  Then  his  previously  acquired  knowledge  of 
Greek  tempted  him  to  read  the  Gospel,  and  the  effect, 
he  imagines,  was  instantaneous.  In  reahty,  however,  it 
was  merely  the  completion  of  the  circle  of  his  life  and 
thought.  His  education,  as  that  of  all  Europeans,  was 
the  result  of  all  the  palpable  and  also  of  the  more  remote 
influences  of  Christianity ;  his  spiritual  life  had  still  more 
carried  him  back  to  the  Gospel,  and  now  the  reading  of 
the  Gospel  finished  the  circle  on  which  he  had  begun. 

It  was  not  the  discovery  of  Christ,  a  new  Christ  for 
him,  that  produced  his  conversion,  but  the  discovery  of 
the  essential  unity  of  his  hopelessly  disconnected  thoughts. 
Heretofore  we  had  the  various  aspects  of  Tolstoy  as  Irt^- 
nev,  Nekhlyiidov,  Oleum,  Pierre,  Levin.  Now  it  is 
Christ-Tolstoy  that  becomes  the  final  and  lasting  stage 
of  his  spiritual  evolution.  Beyond  this  it  is  impossible 
to  go.  Christ's  life  of  humihty  and  brotherly  love,  His 
temptation  by  the  devil,  His  persecution,  His  love  for  the 
lowest  of  humanity, —  that  was  precisely  what  Tolotoy, 
unconscious  of  the  mainspring  of  his  strivings,  had  before 
him  as  the  excelsior  of  his  aspirations.  The  very  so- 
called  impracticableness  of  Christ's  abstract  truths  and 
His  momentary  wavering  in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane 
were  points  strikingly  in   keeping    with   Tolstoy's    own 


294  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

character.  In  so  far  as  Tolstoy  discovered  this  parallelism 
between  his  life  and  that  of  the  teacher  of  Christianity, 
there  actually  began  a  new  stage  of  life  for  him ;  but  it 
was  merely  the  discovery  of  what  had  long  ago  existed 
within  him,  of  what  gave  him  the  positive  conviction 
that  he  was  marching  in  the  right  direction,  even  though 
it  be  toward  an  inaccessible  height.  It  was  this  well- 
moored  enthusiasm,  this  discovery  of  a  staff  and  stay, 
this  universal,  all-permeating,  all-true  Gospel  teaching 
that  urged  him  on  to  cast  aside  the  last  reserve,  to  aban- 
don every  vestige  of  the  litterateur's  art,  to  speak  out 
frankly  and  tell  without  artistic  subterfuge  what  he  had 
been  hinting  at  and  saying  by  imphcation  in  all  his 
previous  novels. 

His  career,  he  thought,  began  anew,  and  as  Childhood, 
Boyhood,  and  Youth  had  ushered  m  his  literary  activity, 
so  now  My  Confession  was  to  make  tabula  rasa  of  his 
older  life  and  to  lay  the  foundation  for  his  religious 
activity.  But  the  two  are  essentially  the  same,  except 
for  the  greater  subjectivity,  maturity,  and  straightfor- 
wardness of  the  second.  Next  it  was  necessary  to  do 
away  with  that  illusive  Orthodox  theology  whixjh  had 
tempted  him  to  fall  back  upon  the  beMef  of  the  church 
and  which  held  many  men  in  subjection.  This  he  did 
in  the  Critique  of  Dogmatic  Theology,  a  work  of  httle 
value  for  those  who  are  convinced  of  the  truth  of  Gospel 
Christianity  or  to  the  reader  at  large,  but  destined  some 
day  to  become  one  of  the  most  poweriul  weapons  against 
the  Greek  Catholic  Church  in  Russia.  Having  cleared  the 
way  in  his  own  consciousness  and  having  put  out  of 
combat  the  church,  he  proceeded  to  reestablish  primitive 
Christianity  from  the  four  Gospels.  Flushed  with  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  new  discovery  and  with  the  confidence 
in  his  self-acquired  knowledge  of  Greek,  Tolstoy  set  out 
to  subject  the  Gospel  to  a  thorough  scrutiny.  The 
manner  in  which  he  proceeded  must  appear  ii'ksome  to  a 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  295 

student  of  Gospel  criticism.  "While  pretending  to  avoid 
interpretation,  Tolstoy  interprets  as  much  as  auy  commen- 
tator, and  in  the  arbitrary  rejection  of  what  he  assumes 
to  be  doubtful  materiarl  he  frequently  oversteps  the  limits 
of  the  probable ;  nor  is  his  knowledge  of  Greek  such  as  to 
warrant  an  exact  analysis  of  delicate  linguistic  points. 
But  even  then,  making  allowance  for  all  possible  short- 
comings, his  harmonization  and  translation  of  the  Gospel 
remains  an  important  contribution  to  Gospel  criticism. 

What  Tolstoy  interprets  out  of  the  Gospel  is  merely 
what  he  brings  into  it  from  a  whole  life  of  spiritual  expe- 
riences. The  central  truth  of  the  Gospel  is  for  him  con- 
tained in  the  Sermoa  on  the  Mount  and  in  the  dicta  of 
Christ  Himself.  Most  of  these  utterances  had  long  formed 
the  conscious,  more  frequently  the  unconscious,  principles 
of  his  acts  and  thoughts.  Imagining  that  the  coincidence  of 
his  ideas  with  those  contained  in  the  Gospel  was  acci- 
dental, whereas  his  own  world-conception  had  from  the 
very  beginning  been  in  various  ways  influenced  by  it,  he 
concluded  that  revelation  consisted  in  this  very  coinci- 
dence of  the  Gospel  truths  with  the  dictates  of  reason, 
and  in  the  reasonableness  of  all  such  tenets  as  had  been 
familiar  to  him  from  the  start  he  saw  an  argument  for 
the  reasonableness  of  the  few  principles  which  he  had  not 
thought  of  before.  Thus,  his  strong  dislike  for  violence 
in  every  form  naturally  made  him  hail  with  delight  the 
simple  prohibitions  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  against 
anger  and  swearing  and  killing,  and  to  this  he  added,  on 
the  strength  of  the  Gospel  alone,  the  prohibition  of  adul- 
tery in  the  sense  of  an  absolute  chastity,  in  place  of  his 
former  glorification  of  maternity.  It  is  curious  to  note, 
in  connection  with  this  acceptance  of  the  simple  teachings 
of  original  Christianity,  that  the  American  sect  of  the  Per- 
fectionists, who  singularly  agree  with  Tolstoy  in  almost 
all  his  deductions  from  the  Gospel  teaching,  and  have  in 
their  communities  lived  the  true  Christian  hfe,  have  re- 


296  LEV  N.    TOLSTOY 

jected  this  one  principle  of  ultra-chastity  and  have  instead, 
again  on  the  strength  of  the  Gospel,  extended  the  com- 
munity of  possessions  to  include  community  of  wives. 

Tolstoy  is  accused  of  carrying 'his  principles,  which, 
however,  are  not  his,  but  Christ's,  to  impossible  conclu- 
sions. The  accusation  is  unjust.  There  can  be  no  com- 
promise in  the  matter  of  truth,  and  Tolstoy  evolves  his 
ideas  to  their  logical  conclusion,  quite  irrespective  of 
whether  they  will  prove  impracticable,  in  the  worldly 
sense  of  the  word.  If  they  lead  to  inconveniences,  the 
trouble  is  not  with  the  truths,  but  with  our  perverted  life. 
The  truths  cannot  be  truths  under  certain  conditions,  and 
cease  to  be  such  when  they  do  not  adapt  themselves  to 
the  present  state  of  affairs.  Either  Christ's  teaching 
is  right  or  it  is  wrong.  Once  the  justice  of  His  teaching 
is  admitted,  there  can  be  no  cavilling  with  it.  One  may 
fall  short  of  the  goal,  but  there  can  be  no  compromise. 
The  many  opponents  of  Tolstoy  have  attacked  him  on  the 
ground  that  his  own  theories  are  so  abstract  and  so 
impossible  of  execution,  that  he  himself  has  not  lived 
up  to  them.  But  the  opponents  err  egregiously.  Tol- 
stdy  has  never  claimed  to  be  perfect,  and  has  distinctly 
pointed  out  in  his  letters  and  diaries  that  he  is  not  a 
saint.  Man  is  weak,  and  the  very  best  will,  in  the 
struggle  between  their  strongly  entrenched  habits  and 
their  best  thinking,  fall  below  the  mark  set  by  their  own 
reason.  A  contemptible  man  is  he  who,  in  falhng,  finds 
a  justification  for  his  fall.  This  Tolstoy  has  never  done : 
he  has  with  singular  courage  upheld  the  supreme  and 
final  truth,  even  though  it  may  tell  against  Ms  own 
actions.  In  fact,  in  judging  of  Tolstoy's  theories,  which, 
it  must  never  be  forgotten,  are  Christ's  and  those  of  many 
other  great  religious  teachers,  we  must  leave  Tolstoy  en- 
tirely out.  His  theories  must  be  judged  in  themselves, 
and  not  in  connection  with  the  man.  They  must  stand 
or  fall  by  themselves. 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  297 

Injudicious  persons  have  now  and  then  addressed  Tol- 
stoy, requesting  liim  to  give  his  opinion  on  this  or  that 
aspect  of  public  life,  as  though  Tolstoy  had  any  particular 
opinion  on  any  particular  point.  All  his  views  are  merely 
the  logical  development  of  the  precepts  of  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount,  and  to  this  one  must  turn  for  the  solution 
of  doubtful  questions.  From  this  Gospel  code  all  of  Tol- 
stoy's principles  are  naturally  and  logically  deduced.  The 
injunction  of  loving  our  neighbour  as  ourselves  in  its  ulti- 
mate application  leads  to  the  equality  of  all  men,  the 
freedom  from  race  hatred,  the  abolition  of  patriotism,  as 
being  a  sectional  feeling  in  which  the  love  of  our  neigh- 
bours suffers  diminution.  "  Thou  shalt  not  kill."  From 
this  follow  the  abolition  of  war  and  of  capital  punish- 
ment, and  vegetarianism.  And  from  this,  in  conjunction 
with  the  prohibition  against  swearing,  there  follows  the 
passive  opposition  to  courts  of  justice  and  to  any  and 
every  kind  of  government.  Similarly,  Christ's  precept  of 
mendicancy  and  thoughtlessness  for  the  morrow  leads 
to  the  abolition  of  private  ownership  and  to  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Christian  commune. 

With  these  principles  there  can  be  no  compromise,  and 
all  the  half-measures  and  palliations  are  unconditionally 
rejected.  Peace  Congresses  are  abortive  endeavours  to 
regulate  war;  parliaments  work  hand  in  hand  with  the 
governments,  and  only  perpetuate  violence ;  socialism  in- 
troduces a  new  slavery  in  the  place  of  the  old,  and  anarch- 
ism stands  self-accused  by  its  use  of  force  to  obtain 
otherwise  desirable  ends.  For  the  same  reason  art  and 
literature,  as  now  constituted,  are  merely  implements  in 
the  power  of  the  rich,  and  as  such  are  unconditionally 
condemned ;  progress  is  of  questionable  value,  because  it 
fails  to  attain  the  ends  of  the  Christian  religion  ;  the  pro- 
fessions are  all  equally  to  be  rejected,  for  they  all  fail  to 
aid  the  masses. 

It  would  seem  that  Tolst6y  in  his  condemnation  iu- 


298  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

eludes  everything  evolved  by  humanity  in  the  course 
of  history.  But  this  assumption  is  incorrect :  he  does 
not  object  to  the  acquisitions  of  humanity  in  themselves, 
but  in  so  far  as  they  act  as  external  means  for  the  attain- 
ment of  personal  well-being.  To  him  the  only  legitimate 
purpose  of  man's  life  is  the  establishment  of  the  right 
relation  to  God,  that  is,  rehgion,  and  of  the  right  re- 
lation to  humanity  at  large,  which  arises  from  the  funda- 
mental principle  of  religion.  This  cannot  be  striven  after 
by  any  of  the  human  institutions  and  contrivances,  but 
by  an  internal  perfection,  —  "The  kingdom  of  God  is 
within  you."  And  it  is  only  through  this  internal  work, 
through  this  important  function  of  religion,  that  all  other 
needs  can  be  supplied  and  obtain  a  meaning,  — "  Seek 
ye  the  kingdom  of  God  and  His  righteousness,  and  all 
these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you." 

Thus  religion,  in  its  broadest  sense  of  man's  relation  to 
the  cause  of  all  causes,  becomes  the  chief  and  only  crite- 
rion of  all  human  acts  and  activities.  Art,  science,  litera- 
ture, all  the  social  relations,  have  a  reason  to  exist  only 
if  they  comply  with  tliis  basal  demand  of  religion,  and 
they  are  all  to  be  condemned  in  proportion  as  they  depart 
from  this  all-embracing  and  unifying  law  and  serve  man 
for  his  selfish  ends.  When  art  and  science  and  all  the  other 
activities  shall  have  become  unified  and  religious,  when 
in  the  enthronement  of  all  of  them  not  one  human  being 
shall  suffer  physically,  morally,  or  mentally,  then  there 
will  arrive  the  time  when  they  will  perform  the  functions 
which  are  proper  to  them,  but  not  until  then. 

Like  the  "  Memento  mori  "  of  the  Trappist  monks,  "  The 
kingdom  of  God  is  within  you "  from  the  time  of  the 
Confession  on  becomes  the  watchword  of  all  of  Tolstoy's 
ideas,  and  every  problem  that  presents  itself  to  him  is 
answered  in  the  light  of  this  Gospel  saying.  It  is  the 
same  old  striving  after  personal  perfection  which  charac- 
terizes Tolstoy  in  his  earliest  writings.     No  conversion, 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  299 

no  violent  change  Las  taken  place  in  the  spiritual  life 
of  the  author ;  there  is  not  even  a  new  angle  of  vision 
in  this  accentuation  of  the  religious  side  of  life  and  of 
a  salvation  from  within.  There  is  only  a  logical  unifica- 
tion of  a  series  of  revolts.  Of  necessity  Tolstoy  had  to 
arrive  in  the  end  at  what  American  thought,  itself  the 
issue  of  a  series  of  revolts,  had  arrived  at  before  him.  It 
was  the  American  school-books  of  "  Peter  I'arley,"  which 
departed  so  completely  from  those  current  in  Europe,  that 
had  very  early  in  Tolstoy's  career  directed  his  attention 
to  American  pedagogical  ideas,  and  these  were  again 
supplemented  by  what  he  later,  by  the  courtesy  of  Eugene 
Schuyler,  could  glean  out  of  American  school-books.  So 
now,  when  his  extreme  Gospel  Christianity  directed  his 
attention  to  the  most  advanced  revolt,  political,  social, 
religious,  he  found  himself  peculiarly  in  agreement  with 
much  that  had  been  worked  out  in  America.  .Indeed,  as 
soon  as  his  first  few  writings  under  the  influence  of  his 
new  fervour  reached  the  reading  public  in  the  United 
States,  many  who  felt  themselves  to  be  in  full  agreement 
with  liim  sent  him  books,  pamphlets,  and  periodicals,  in 
which  identical  propositions  were  advanced.  Thus  he  for 
the  first  time  discovered  the  simple  Christianity  of  the 
Quakers  and  the  Shakers,  the  religious  writings  of  Chan- 
ning  and  of  Parker,  the  non-resistant  activity  of  Garrison 
and  Ballon.  Henceforth  he  again  falls  under  the  sway 
of  American  thought,  accepting  from  it  everything  which 
voices  the  revolt  in  its  most  pronounced  form.  The 
difference  between  him  and  the  American  writers  is  only 
such  as  nationally  exists  between  a  Kussian  and  an 
American. 

Tolstoy's  activity  since  his  Confession  has  been  prin- 
cipally directed  toward  the  elucidation  of  all  sides  of  life 
in  the  light  of  the  Gospel  teaching.  My  Religion,  Life, 
Tlie  Christian  Teaching,  and  a  large  number  of  minor 
articles  and  letters  set  forth  his  views  in  a  more  or  less 


300  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

detailed  form,  and  special  articles  are  devoted  to  the 
elucidation  of  his  ideas  concerning  particular  points, 
patriotism,  morality,  non-resistance,  the  use  of  a  blood- 
less diet,  abstinence  from  spirituous  liquors,  continence 
in  the  sexual  relation,  and  so  forth.  These  differ  from 
similar  disquisitions  by  other  writers  in  that  not  one  of 
them  is  elaborated  by  Tolstoy  as  a  separate  issue,  but  as  a 
minor  part  of  the  same  central  idea,  —  the  truth  of  the 
Gospel  teaching.  For  the  same  reason  he  cannot  find  any 
approximate  or  partial  truths  in  any  of  the  current  at- 
tempts at  ameliorations,  improvements,  and  advancements, 
and  modern  philanthropy,  like  many  other  sides  of  our 
civihzation,  is  subjected  to  an  incisive  criticism  and  is 
found  wanting  in  the  basal  principle  of  "  the  kingdom  of 
God  is  within  you." 

Naturally  Tolstoy  became  interested  in  the  Eussian 
sects  that -profess  a  primitive  Christianity,  and  of  these 
the  Dukhobors  came  in  for  the  greatest  share  of  his  atten- 
tion, as  the  persecutions  to  which  they  were  subjected  by 
the  government  demanded  prompt  action,  to  save  them 
from  utter  destruction.  Chiefly  through  his  instrumen- 
tality, the  Dukhobors  were  gathered  from  the  various 
settlements  within  and  without  Eussia,  and  were  provided 
vdth  means  of  transportation  to  Canada,  where  they  were 
given  land  by  the  Canadian  government.  The  letters 
which  Tolstoy  wrote  concerning  the  Dukhobors  reiterate 
the  general  statements  concerning  the  meaning  and  es- 
sence of  the  Gospel.  The  letters  to  the  Dukhobors  are 
interesting  in  that  they  evince  Tolstoy's  solicitude  for  the 
practical  application  of  the  Gospel  teaching,  in  order  to 
have  before  him  a  palpable  proof  of  the  truth  of  his  con- 
tentions. Most  interesting,  however,  are  his  two  letters 
to  Verigin,  the  leader  of  the  Dukhobors,  in  that  they  give 
us  an  insight  into  a  peculiarity  of  Tolstoy's  character 
which  is  generally  overlooked  by  his  critics. 

When  Tolstoy's  wholesale  condemnation  of  art,  litera- 


LEV   N.   TOLSTOY  301 

ture,  and  the  sciences  had  led  Vengin  to  express  himself 
contemptuously  in  respect  to  books  and  the  use  of  modern 
inventions,  Tolstoy  felt  himself  obliged  to  take  Verigin 
to  task  and  to  prove  to  him  the  usefulness  and  necessity 
of  certain  acquisitions  of   modern  civilization.     This  at 
first  sight  looks  like  veering  around  to  a  contrary  opinion, 
and  similar  utterances  of  his  have  been  made  the  subject 
of  just  such  accusations.     But  there  is  no  contradiction 
in  this.     Tolstoy  does  not  object  to  either  science,  art, 
literature,  or  modern  inventions,  but  to  their  perversions, 
to  their  disregard  of  the  sanctity  of  life  and  the  equaHty 
and  liberty  of  man,  to  their  being  used  in  the  service  of 
the  few  against  the  many.     His  wholesale  condemnation, 
carried  to  its  logical  conclusion,  is  meant  for  the  perusal 
of  the  thinking  and  educated,  who  are  used  to  philosophi- 
cal reasoning.     There  are,  however,  two  classes  of  men 
who  may  be  misled  by  his  generalizations  into  outdoing 
the  master,  —  the  slavish  imitators  and  the  half -educated. 
To  the  latter  belongs  Verigin,  and  Tolstoy  was  compelled 
to  emphasize  to  him  the  opposite  side,  the  usefulness  of 
those  human  acquisitions  which,  in  their  present  form,  he 
had  rejected  as  a  whole.     For  the  same  reason,  though 
rejecting  every  government,  he  felt  himself  impelled  to 
address  the  emperor  upon  the  subject  of  reforms,  by  no 
means  in  the  sense  of  a  compromise,  but  as  a  minimum 
of  a  possible  political  platform.     How  far-sighted  Tolstoy 
can  be,  when  not  dwelling  upon  the  logical  consequence 
of  his  theories,  may  be  seen  from  the  fact  that  the  late 
Zemstvoist  demands  almost  coincide  with  Tolstoy's  own 
programme ;    but    Tolstoy's    programme    is    much    more 
far-reaching,    since    it    is    not   conceived   in    the   spirit 
of  compromise,  but  as  the  first    step   toward    the   final 
consummation  of  the  Christian  life. 

Of  late  years  Tolstoy  has  been  inchned  to  look  more 
for  possible  practical  applications  of  his  theories,  instead 
of  persisting  more  especially  in  the  sphere  of  philosophical 


302  LEY   N.   TOLSTOY 

deductions.  Thus,  though  he  formerly  looked  askance  at 
Henry  George's  Single  Tax,  as  being  an  external  means 
for  bringing  about  the  eternal  peace,  which  can  originate 
only  from  within,  he  now  gives  it  a  more  favourable  place 
in  his  scheme  of  peasant  reforms,  which  more  than  any 
others  absorb  his  attention.  For  the  labour  question  as 
a  poHtical  or  sociological  problem  he  has  as  little  use  as 
for  the  socialistic  and  anarchistic  panacea  which  are  sug- 
gested for  its  solution,  but  the  labourers  are  again  and  again 
addressed  by  him,  and  are  admonished  to  rely  solely  on 
the  internal  reform,  on  the  kingdom  of  God  within  them, 
for  their  future  welfare,  and  they  are  advised  to  return 
to  the  soil,  where  alone  they  can  be  free.  The  land  ques- 
tion, not  pohtical  freedom  and  industrial  development,  is, 
therefore,  the  only  burning  question  of  the  day  in  Eussia, 
as  it  must  be  everywhere  else,  if  life  is  to  run  in  normal 
channels. 

Tolstoy  has  not  been  able,  in  spite  of  his  growing  dis- 
like for  literature,  to  devote  all  his  time  to  philosophical 
disquisitions  and  to  pamphleteering.  His  artistic  nature 
demanded  its  due,  and  at  intervals  he  returned  to  his 
artistic  productions ;  but  never  again  did  he  for  a  moment 
forget  his  one  aim  of  inculcating  the  truths  of  the  Gospel 
teaching.  His  main  concern  has  been  to  bring  the  Gos- 
pel teaching  nearer  to  the  peasants,  the  simple  folk  to 
whom,  according  to  Christ,  is  given  the  comprehension  of 
divine  truths.  Hence  he  has  clothed  his  thoughts  in  the 
form  of  moral  tales,  legends,  and  fairy-tales,  employing 
the  simplest  and  most  accessible  literary  means  for  the  in- 
culcation of  Christian  virtues.  One  of  these  stories,  which 
shows  the  folly  of  the  use  of  spirituous  drinks,  he  has 
even  changed  into  dramatic  form,  apparently  to  make  it 
available  for  representation  on  a  popular  stage. 

But  he  also  wrote  for  an  enlightened  public.  The  ideas 
which  he  held  concerning  the  frequently  immoral  effect 
of  music  combined  with  his  newly  emphasized,  exaggerated 


LEV   N.   TOLSTOY  303 

views  on  the  sexual   relations  led  him  to  present  the 
double  question  in  the  form  of  a  powerful  psychological 
analysis  of  marital  relations,   with  their   jealousies  and 
sexual  excesses,  which  culminate  in  the  murder  of  the 
guilty  wife.    This  study,  The  Kreutzer  Sonata,  provoked  a 
storm  of  indignation  from  the  prudish  and  the  hypocritical, 
as  though  Tolstoy  in  any  shape  or  manner  gave  food  for 
immoral  conceptions.      27ic  Kreidzer  Sonata  is  about  as 
immoral  as  is  an  anatomical  theatre  or  a  museum  of  loath- 
some diseases,  and  certainly  is  as  abhorrent  as  the  latter. 
Besides,  the  idea  of  the  immoral  effect  of  music  is  as  old 
as  Plato  and  the  Chinese  sages,  and  the  insistence  on 
extreme  chastity  is  quite  familiar  to  a  certain  class  of 
Americans,  with  whose  ideas  he  was  evidently  acquainted 
before  writing  TJie  Kreutzer  Sonata.     When,  under  the 
stress  of  the  many  attacks  upon  him,  he  wrote  an  epilogue 
to  this  work,  he  was,  indeed,  obliged  to  fall  back  mainly 
on  the  ideas  of  the  American  apostles  of  ultra-chastity. 
In  any  case.  The  Kreutzer  Sonata  can  only  have  a  sobering, 
and  not  an  immoral,  effect  upon  the  reader. 

Tolstoy's  great  versatility  has  been  attested  in  the  pro- 
duction of  two  dramas,  both  of  them  complete  in  them- 
selves and  well  adapted  for  the  stage.  One  of  these,  the 
comedy.  Fruits  of  Enlightenment,  is  an  amusing  satire  on 
the  superstition  of  spirituahsm,  the  inanity  of  society,  the 
pompous  pretence  and  absurdity  of  modern  so-called 
science.  The  other  drama,  The  Power  of  Darkness,  is  a 
much  more  serious  production.  As  TJie  Kreutzer  Sonata 
depicts  the  effect  of  immoral  relations  upon  the  men  of 
the  upper  classes,  so  Tlie  Power  of  Darkness  treats  with  the 
harrowing  effects  of  improper  sexual  relations  upon  the  be- 
nighted peasantry.  But  it  is  not  to  the  plot  itself, 
which  is  worked  out  with  wonderful  realism,  that  the 
author  wishes  to  direct  the  hearer's  attention,  but  to 
the  power  of  repentance,  which  leads  Nikita,  the  adulterer 
and  unwilling  accomplice  in  the  murder  of  his  new-born 


304  LEV   N.    TOLSTOY 

babe,  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  his  crimes  before  the 
Christian  people.  Still  more  to  the  author's  liking  is 
Akim,  Nikita's  simple-minded  father,  whose  speech  is 
barely  articulated  and  who  represents  that  Christian  right- 
eousness which  needs  no  wisdom  for  its  utterance. 

Probably  no  other  work  of  Tolstoy's  later  period  has 
provoked  so  much  discussion  as  What  Is  Art  ?  in  which 
he  condemns  nearly  all  modern  art.  The  attacks  which  on 
this  score  have  been  directed  against  his  views  could  have 
proceeded  only  from  those  who  were  not  acquainted  with 
his  previous  works,  especially  those  that  have  been  pub- 
lished since  his  preoccupation  with  the  Gospel.  To  those 
who  knew  Tolstoy  from  his  former  writings  there  could 
be  no  doubt  as  to  what  his  conception  of  art  must  be. 
Naturally  religion  is  by  him  put  at  the  foundation  of  art, 
else  there  is  no  criterion  for  it,  just  as  there  is  no  criterion 
for  any  other  human  activity  without  a  correct  under- 
standing as  to  man's  relation  to  G-od.  Similarly,  from 
Tolstoy's  general  dislike  of  everything  which  lacks  sincer- 
ity and  simplicity,  it  follows  that  he  can  have  no  use  for 
those  manifestations  of  the  creative  powers  which  by  his 
canon  must  be  considered  as  mere  adulterations  -of  art. 
That  in  his  sweeping  arraignment  of  modern  art  he  may 
have  included  some  really  deserviug  productions,  or 
may  have  here  and  there  overlooked  some  worthy  artist, 
does  not  invalidate  the  fact  that  Tolstoy  has  given  a  con- 
sistent and  healthy  criterion  for  man's  higher  activities, 
which  artists  would  do  well  to  keep  constantly  before 
them  as  their  guide. 

A  no  lesser  sensation  was  caused  among  the  reading 
public  by  Tolstoy's  Resurrection,  in  which  the  author, 
according  to  the  critics,  outdid  himself  in  realism  and  in 
extravagant  arraignment  of  modern  society.  But  that 
is  only  so  on  the  surface.  There  is  nothing  new  in  bis 
latest  portrayal  of  the  black  sides  of  the  legal  system,  of 
the  state  church,  of  penal  institutions,  of  the  government, 


LEV   N.    TOLSTOY  305 

except  that  this  time  it  is  all  represented  in  the  form  of 
a  novel  and  that  he  has  for  the  first  time. limned  charac- 
ters from  the  society  of  intellectuals,  of  men  and  women 
belonging  to  the  student  class,  instead  of  delineating  types 
from  the  narrower  circle  to  which  he  himself  belonged 
and  from  the  peasant  class  which  he  knew  so  well.  The 
heroine,  Katyusha,  who  after  being  seduced  by  Nekhlyiidov 
falls  lower  and  lower,  and  while  being  an  inmate  of  a 
house  of  ill  repute  is  falsely  accused  of  murder  and  de- 
ported to  Siberia,  is  drawn  with  the  same  delicacy  which 
the  author  has  bestowed  upon  his  best  types  of  women  in 
his  former  writings.  Nekhlyudov,  the  same  autobio- 
graphic reflection  as  before,  accidentally  sits  as  a  juror  in 
the  court  trying  Katyusha  for  her  supposed  murder.  He 
is  tormented  by  remorse,  wishes  to  expiate  his  guilt 
toward  her  by  marrying  her,  becomes  aware  of  the  many 
wrongs  created  in  the  name  of  civilization,  —  of  the  futil- 
ity of  legal  justice,  of  the  criminality  of  private  ownership, 
of  the  vapidity  of  society,  of  the  indissolubleness  of  the 
marriage  ties.  He  undergoes  hardships  and  privations  in 
his  desire  to  be  near  Katyusha,  whom  he  wishes  to  help, 
and,  in  spite  of  his  occasional  lapses  into  his  aristocratic 
habits,  moves  steadily  toward  a  higher,  unified  world-con- 
ception. In  short,  Xekhlyildov  is  again  a  form  of  Tol- 
stoy, and,  like  Tolstoy,  he  finally  arrives  at  the  solution  of 
all  his  doubts  in  the  right  comprehension  of  the  Gospel 
teaching. 

Tolstoy's  private  life  in  the  last  twenty-five  years  need 
not  arrest  us  long.  He  has  tried  to  live  the  simple  rehg- 
ious  life,  a  life  of  hard  labour.  A  number  of  ill-inten- 
tioned critics  have  ever  been  ready  to  find  flaws  in 
Tolstoy's  private  life,  in  order  to  prove  the  impossibility 
of  realizing  Tolstoy's  precepts.  But  it  has  already  been 
pointed  out  that  Tolstoy  has  never  claimed  himself  to  be 
perfect,  and  that  he  merely  declines  to  make  compromises 
with  his  own  conscience,  even  though  his  own  practices 


306  LEV    N.    TOLSTOY 

may  not  be  in  agreement  with  his  better  knowledge. 
Similarly  we  can  dismiss  the  accusation  preferred  against 
Tolstoy  that,  in  turning  over  his  property  to  his  wife,  who 
also  collects  the  royalties  upon  his  works,  he  is  guilty  of 
duphcity.  If  he  could  see  a  better  solution,  he  would 
be  the  first  to  live  up  to  it.  As  it  is,  we  must  admire 
the  man  who,  in  spite  of  the  eternal  contradictious  with 
which  he  is  surrounded,  still  maintains  the  infallibility  of 
the  dictates  of  reason.  There  have,  no  doubt,  been  men 
who  have  been  able  much  better  to  harmonize  their  daily 
acts  with  their  reason,  but  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that 
Tolstoy's  struggle  is  one  of  gigantic  proportions,  since  with 
the  unbending  spirit  of  non-compromise  he  unites  an  utter 
helplessness  in  matters  of  practical  application,  both  of 
which  are  characteristic  of  the  whole  of  Eussian  life. 
Nor  need  we  dwell  on  the  external  facts  of  his  excommu- 
nication by  the  Greek  Catholic  Church,  upon  the  fact  that 
but  a  very  few  of  his  own  family  follow  his  precepts  or 
agree  with  him  in  theory,  or  upon  his  relations  to  a  large 
number  of  private  individuals,  as  these  in  no  way  alter 
the  judgment  we  have  so  far  formed  concerning  his  life 
and  thoughts  from  his  writings  and  his  previous  life  ex- 
periences. If  Tolstoy's  life  was  even  in  the  first  half 
of  his  literary  activity  fully  reflected  in  his  literary  pro- 
ductions, it  has  now,  since  his  Confession,  been  even  more 
completely  recorded  in  his  written  work.  It  is,  indeed, 
the  most  remarkable  characteristic  of  his  maturer  years 
that  his  thoughts  do  not  belong  to  any  one  individual  or 
to  any  one  time,  but  are  the  eternal  truths  again  and  again 
repeated  through  the  ages. 

Our  task  is  done.  We  have  analyzed  half  a  century 
of  Tolstoy's  activity,  and  have  found  it  singularly  con- 
sistent and  steadily  advancing  toward  the  primitive  Chris- 
tianity by  which  it  has  unconsciously  been  influenced 
from  the  very  start.  Tolstoy's  faults  are  many  :  he  lacks 
the    cautious  training    which    makes    a   man   wary    and 


LEV    N.    TOLSTOY  307 

balanced  in  his  judgments ;  he  frequently  shocks  people 
by  liis  abruptness  of  thought  and  neglect  of  style  and 
traditional  Uterary  forms ;  he  antagonizes  and  frets  and 
is  restless.  But  through  and  above  all  this  shine  brightly 
the  sincerity  and  earnestness  of  purpose,  the  broadest 
sympathy  with  humankind,  the  greatest  altruism,  an 
unbounded  faith  in  the  ultimate  divine  ends  of  man, 
a  fervent  religious  sentiment,  a  titanic  artistic  nature,  a 
wonderful  insight  into  the  workings  of  the  human  mind, 
a  fearlessness  which  even  a  despotic  government  has  not 
dared  to  challenge,  though  the  church  has  anathematized 
him.  The  name  of  his  admirers  is  legion,  but  the  number 
of  his  followers  is  very  restricted,  not  because  his  theories, 
that  is,  Christ's  precepts,  are  difficult  of  execution,  but 
because  the  world  at  large  has  not  yet  outgrown  the  hope 
and  desire  of  an  external  salvation.  None  the  less,  Tol- 
stoy is  recognized  as  the  spiritual  guide  of  the  New 
Russia  which  is  to  rise  from  the  ashes  of  the  Old,  and  his 
popularity  abroad  is  bound  to  grow  with  the  growth  of 
brotherly  love  and  universal  peace  and  good-will  to  all 
men  upon  earth.  It  is  said  that  Dante  more  than  any 
other  author  represents  the  highest  flower  of  our  Christian 
civilization.  With  equal  justice  it  may  be  said  that  Tol- 
stoy stands  for  the  highest  aspirations  of  Christ's  teaching, 
to  which  the  world  is  gradually  returning  after  nearly  two 
millenniums. 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE  OF 
EVENTS  IN  THE  LIFE  OF 
LEV   TOLSTOY 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE  OF 
EVENTS  IN  THE  LIFE  OF 
LEV  TOLSTOY 


1828.  August  28  O.  S.i     Count  L.  N".  Tolstoy  born. 

1831.  Death  of  his  mother. 

1837.  Father's  death.     Journey  to  Moscow.     Return  to  Ydsna.ya 

Polyd,na,  under  the  guardianship  of  Countess  A.  I.  Osten 

Saken. 
1810.  Death  of  Countess  Osten  Sd,ken,  and  settlement  in  Kazdn, 

in  the  house  of  his  aunt  P.  I.  Yuslikov. 
1848.  Tolstoy  enters  the  Philological  Department  of  Kazdn  Uni- 
versity. 
1845.  Leaves  Kazdn  University,  and  returns  to  Y^snaya  Polydna. 

Goes   to   St.  Petersburg  and  again  returns   to  Ydsnaya 

Polydna. 
1848.  Goes  to  St.  Petersburg  for  his  candidate's  examination  at 

the  university. 

1851.  Goes  to  the  Caucasus,  and  in  the  fall  there  enters  the 

army  as  yunker  in  the  light  artillery. 

1852.  July  9.     "  Childhood  "  finished. 

Writes  "  A  IMorning  of  a  Landed  Proprietor,"  "  The  Incur- 
sion," "  Boyhood." 

September  6.  "  Childhood  "  published,  in  the  Contempo- 
rary. 

October  18.     Writes  plaa  of  "  Cossacks." 

1853.  "  The  Incursion,"  published  in  the  Contemporary. 

1  Dates  are  given  in  old  style.     Dates  of  writing  have  in  this  chro- 
nology been  corrected  according  to  the  best  information  obtainable. 

311 


312  CHRONOLOGICAL   TABLE 

Winter.     Returns  to  Ydsnaya  Polydna. 
December.     Arrives  at  the  Danube,  where  he  joins  the 
army. 

1854.  "  Boyhood  "  published,  in  the  Contemporary. 
November.     Arrival  at  Sevastopol. 

1855.  "  Memoirs  of  a  Marker,"  published  in  the  Contemporary. 
"Sevastopol  in  December,  1854,  and  in  May,  1855,"  pub- 
lished in  the  Contemporary. 

Takes  part  in  the  battle  at  the  Ch6ruaya. 

»  The  Cutting  of  the  Forest "  (dedicated  to  I.  S.  Turg6- 

nev),  published  in  the  Contemporary. 
Helps  writing  "  The  4th  of  August." 
Sent  as  courier  to  St.  Petersburg,  after  the  storming  of 

the  Malilkhov  Hill. 
First  signing  of  his  name  in  an  address  of  leading  literary 

men. 

1856.  "  Sevastopol  in  August,  1855,"  published  in  the  Conteinpo- 

rary. 
Publication  of  his  collected  Military  Stories. 
"  The  Snow-storm,"  published  in  the  Contemporary. 
"  Two  Hussars,"  published  in  the  Contemporary. 
"  A    Morning    of    a    Landed    Proprietor,"    published    in 

Memoirs  of  the  Fatherland. 
"  Meeting  a  Moscow  Acquaintance  at  the  Front,"  published 

in  Library  for  Reading. 
First  picture  in  a  group  of  literary  men  (with  Grigorovich, 

Goncharov,  Druzhinin,  Turg^nev,  and  Ostrovski).- 
"Youth"  finished  in  November. 

1857.  "Youth,"  published  in  the  Contemporary. 

First  journey  abroad  (February  —  in  Germany  and  Paris  ; 
April  and  May — -in  Italy;  June  and  July  —  in  Switzer- 
land; July  7th  —  in  Lucerne). 

"  Lucerne,"  published  in  the  Contemporary. 

August.     Back  to  Ydsnaya  Polyana. 

October  and  November.     In  St.  Petersburg  and  Moscow. 

Second  journey  abroad,  to  Paris  and  Dijon. 

"Albert"  written  at  Dijon. 

Back  to  Russia. 

1858.  "  Albert,"  published  in  the  Contemporary. 
"  Three  Deaths  "  written. 

Opinion  of  105  members  of  the  Tula  gentry  concerning 
the  allotment  of  land  to  the  peasants,  in  the  Contempo- 
rary,  signed  also  by  Tolstoy. 

1859.  "  Three  Deaths,"  published  in  the  Library  for  Reading. 


CHRONOLOGICAL    TABLE  313 

"  Domestic    Happiness,"    published   in  the  Russian   Mes- 
senger. 
1860.  Third  journey  abroad. 

Meeting  with  Berthold  Auerbach  and  Julius  Frobel. 

Death  of  his  brother,  Nikolay. 

"  Polikiishka  "  written. 
186L  Visit  to  Italy,  Paris,  and  London. 

Meeting    of    Proudhon  and    Lelewel   at    Brussels,  and  of 
Diesterweg  at  Berlin. 

April  25.     Back  to  St.  Petersburg. 

May  10.     Back  to  Ydsnaya  Polj'ana. 

May  12.     Petitioning  tlie  government  to  be  permitted  to 
open  a  school. 

Acting  as  Mediator  of  the  Peace. 

"  The  Cossacks  "  finished. 

July.     Announcement  of  the  publication  of  Ydsnaya  Po- 
ly ana. 

1862.  Publication  of  the  Ydsnaya  Polydna,  containing  : 
"  On  Popular  Education." 

"  On  ]\Iethods  of  Teaching  the  Rudiments." 

"  A  Project  of  a  General  Plan  for  the  Establishment  of 

Popular  Schools." 
"Education  and  Culture." 

"  Are  the  Peasant  Children  to  Learn  to  Write  from  Us?" 
«  The  School  at  Yilsnaya  Polydna." 
Lives  among  the  Bashkirs. 
September  23.     Marriage. 
"Childhood  and  Youth,"  translated  into  English. 

1863.  Last  of  Ydsnaya  Polydna,  containing : 

"  Progress  and  the  Definition  of  Education." 
"The  Cossacks,"  published  in  the  Russian  Messenger. 
"  Polikiishka,"  published  in  the  Russian  Messenger. 
"  The  Linen-Measurer  "  written. 
"  The  Decembrists  "  begun. 

1864.  First  publication  of  his  Collected  Works. 
"  War  and  Peace  "  begun. 

1865.  First  part  of  "  War  and  Peace  "  under  the  name  of  "  The 

Year  of  180.5,"  published  in  the  Russian  Messenger. 

1866.  Views  the  Field  of  Borodino. 

1868.  "A  Few  Words  Concerning  the  Book  '  War  and  Peace.'" 

1869.  "  War  and  Peace  "  finished. 
Begins  studying  Greek. 

"  The  Primer  "  begun. 
1871.  Journey  to  Samslra. 


o 


14  CHEONOLOGICAL   TABLE 


"  Primer,"  first  book,  printed. 

1872.  "  The  Primer"  printed.     (It  contains  the  Stories  for  Chil- 

dren,  God  Sees  the   Truth,  The  Prisoner  of  the   Caucasus, 
etc.) 

1873.  "  Anna  Kar6nin  "  begun. 

1874.  "On  Popular  Education,"  in  Memoirs  of  the  Fatherland. 
Russian  and  Church-Slavic  "  Primers  "  printed. 

1875.  "  New  Primer  "  printed. 

"  First  four  Readers  "  printed. 

1877.  "Anna  Kar^nin  "  finished. 

1878.  "  Tlie  Decembrists"  abandoned. 
"  First  Recollections." 

1879-82.  "My  Confession  "  (printed  abroad). 

1880-82.  "Critique  of  Dogmatic  Theology"  (printed  abroad). 

"  The  Four  Gospels  Harmonized  and  Translated  "  (printed 
abroad). 

1881.  "What  Men  Live  By." 

1882.  "  On  the  Moscow  Census." 

"  Short  Exposition  of  the  Gospel  "  (printed  abroad). 
"  Church  and  State  "  (printed  abroad). 
"Letter  to  N.  N."  (printed  abroad). 

1884.  "My  Religion"  (printed  abroad). 

"Introduction  to   T.  M.  Bondar^v's  Teaching"  (printed 
abroad). 
1884-86.  "What  Shall  We  Do  Then?"  (printed  abroad  in  sepa- 
rate parts  as  "  Wliat  Is  My  Life?     and  "  Money  "). 

"  The  Death  of  Ivtln  Ilich." 

1885.  "  Neglect  the  Fire." 
"  The  Candle." 

"  The  Two  Old  Men." 
"  Where  Love  Is,  There  God  Is  Also." 
Texts  for  Chapbook  Illustrations. 
"  Ivdn  the  Fool." 

1886.  "  The  Power  of  Darkness." 

"  Nicholas  Stick  "  (printed  abroad), 

"  What  a  Christian  May  Do." 

"  Popular  Legends." 

"  The  First  Distiller." 

"  To  N.  N.  Ge's  Painting." 

"  Letter  to  a  Revolutionist."  ^ 

1  Henceforth  the  publication  of  Tolstdy's  works  follows  soon  after 
they  are  written,  and  with  but  a  very  few  exceptions  only  those  that 
are  published  abroad  are  reliable. 


CHRONOLOGICAL    TABLE 


315 


1887. 

1888. 
1889. 

1890. 


1891. 


1891- 
1892. 
1893. 


1894. 


1895. 


"On  Life." 

"  What  Is  the  Truth  in  Art  ?  " 

"  The  Three  Sons." 

"  To  the  Dear  Youth." 

"  Linen-Measurer  "  printed. 

"  Walk  in  the  Liglit,  While  Ye  Have  Light." 

"  Letter  to  a  Frenchman." 

"  The  Kreutzer  Sonata." 

"Fruits  of  Enlightenment." 

"  The  Holiday  of  Enlightenment." 

"  Letter  to  A.  V.  Vldsov." 

"  Epilogue  to  the  Kreutzer  Sonata." 

"  On  the  Relation  between  the  Sexes." 

"  On  Non-Resistance  to  Evil." 

"  Why  People  become  Intoxicated." 

"  Introduction  to  A.  Stockham's  Tokology." 

"  Apropos  of  A.  L.  Ershov's  Book." 

«'  The  Coffee-house  of  Suj-at "  (translated  from  the  French 

of  B.  de  St.  Pierre). 
Tolstoy's  family  goes  to  the  Famine  district. 
September  19.  Tolstoy  grants  permission  to  translate  and 

reprint  his  works. 
9.3.  "  Articles  and  Reports  on  the  Famine." 

■■  The  First  Step." 

'  The  Kingdom  of  God  Is  within  You." 

'  The  Xon-Acting  "  (printed  abroad). 

'Introduction  to  Amiel's  Diary." 

'Karma"  (translated  from  the  English). 

'  Introduction  to  S.  T.  Semenov's  Peasant  Stories." 

'  Introduction  to  the  Works  of  Guy  de  Maupassant." 

'  Christianity  and  Patriotism  "  (printed  abroad). 

'  Religion  and  Morality." 

'  Mazzini  on  Immortality  "  (translated). 

'  Letter  to  the  Editor  of  the  Daily  Chronicle." 

'  Epilogue  to  Drozhzhin's  Life  and  Death." 

'  Master  and  Workman." 

'  Reason  and  Religion." 

'  Three  Parables." 

'  Letter  to  a  Pole." 

'  Relation  to  the  Government  and  the  Existing  Order." 

'  God  or  Mammon  ?  " 

' Shame ! " 

'  Persecution  of  Christians  in  Russia." 

'  Letter  to  P.  V.  Verlgiu." 


316  CHRONOLOGICAL    TABLE 

1896.  '•  Second  Letter  to  Verigin."    ' 
"  Letter  to  the  Ministers." 

"  Letter  on  the  Deception  of  the  Church." 
"  Patriotism  or  Peace." 
"  Letter  to  Ernest  Howard  Crosby." 
"  Help !  " 

<'  Letter  to  the  Chief  of  the  Irkutsk  Disciplinary  Battal 
ion." 
"  How  to  Read  the  Gospel." 
"  The  Approach  of  the  Knd." 
•'  Letter  to  Eugen  Heinrich  Schmitt." 
"  Letter  to  the  Liberals." 

1897.  "What  Is  Art?" 

"  Nobel's  Bequest." 

"  Letter  to  the  Dukhobors  of  the  Caucasus." 

1898.  "  Famine  or  No  Famine  ?  " 

"  Preface  to  Carpenter's  Article." 

"  Carthago  Delenda  Est." 

»  Two  Wars." 

"  An  Appeal  in  Behalf  of  the  Dukhobors." 

1899.  "  Resurrection." 

"The  Comnmne  and  the  World." 

"  Concerning  the  Congress  of  Peace." 

"  Letter  to  a  Corporal." 

"  Who  Is  to  Blame  ?  "  (On  the  Transvaal  War.) 

"  First  Letter  to  the  Dukhobors  in  Canada." 

«  Three  Phases  of  Life." 

1900.  "  Patriotism  and  Government." 
"Thou  Shalt  Not  Kill." 

"  Where  Is  the  Way  Out?" 

"Need  It  Be  So?" 

"  Second  Letter  to  the  Dukhobors." 

"  Letter  to  Nicholas  11." 

"  Slavery  of  Our  Time." 

1901.  February  20-22.     Decree  of  excommunication  by  the  Holy 

Synod. 
"  Answer  to  the  Decree." 
"  The  Only  Means." 
«  The  Soldiers'  Memento." 
«  The  Officers'  Memento." 
"  Letter  to  an  Orthodox  Priest." 
"  Letter  to  a  French  Pastor." 
"Letter  to  Pietro  Mazzini." 
"  On  the  Street  Riots." 


CHRONOLOGICAL    TABLE  317 

«  A  Message  to  the  American  People." 
"  Three  Letters  on  Reason,  Faith,  and  Prayer." 
"  To  the  Tsar  and  His  Associates." 
"  Three  Letters  concerning  Shopov." 
<«  The  Tolstoy  Society  of  Manchester." 
1902.  "What  Is  Religion?" 

«  To  the  Working  People." 
"  On  Religious  Toleration." 


INDEX 

To  Life  and  Works  of  Tolstoy 


INDEX 

To  Life  and  Works  of  Tolstoy 


^sop's  fables,  260. 

Akira,  226 ;  304. 

Albert,  241,  244. 

Alexander  I.,  207,  210,  280, 
281. 

America,  T.'s  obligations  to, 
206 ;  parallelism  between 
Russia  and,  206 ;  relations 
between  Russia  and,  in  the 
beginning  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  207  ;  first  book  by 
a  Russian  on,  207 ;  diver- 
gences between  Russia  and, 
208 ;  its  literature  defined, 
209  ;  its  literature  compared 
■with  that  of  Russia,  210 ; 
its  schoolbooks  and  T.,  261 ; 
its  pedagogy  compared  with 
T.'s,  265  ;  its  educational 
system  compared  with  T.'s, 
268  ;  its  public  schools,  273  ; 
T.'s  obligations  to,  299  ;  and 
the  Kreutzer  Sonata,  303. 

Andr^y,  see  Bolkonski. 

Anna  Kare'nin,  278,  285;  and 
see  261,  262,  263,  276,  291. 

Ant<jROv,  243. 

Are  the  Peasant  Children  to 
Learn  to  Write  from  Usf  271. 


m 


Aristocracy,  as  viewed  by  T., 

243. 
Art,    as   viewed    by    T.,    272, 

274. 
Arzamas,  207. 
Auerbacli,   T.'s  meeting  with, 

237,251. 

Ballou,  212,  299. 
Baryatlnski,  Prince,  221. 
Bashkirs,  260,  262. 
Bastion,  Fourth,  231. 
Bazdy^ev,  282. 
Beethoven,  T.   studying,  221  ; 

as  viewed  by  T.,  274. 
Behrs,  253. 
Berg,  223. 
Berlin,  T.  in,  237. 
Bestiizhev-Marlinski,  212. 
Bible,  and  Rousseau,  228  ;   as 

viewed  by  T.,  273. 
Bolkhov,  243. 
Bolkonski,   Andr^y,    228,    281, 

284  ;  Mdrya,  see  Mdrya. 
Book  of  Wisdom,  290. 
Borodino  visited  by  T.,  258. 
Boyhood,  221,  227,"283. 
Brook  Farm,  212. 
Bryant,  211. 


322 


INDEX    TO    LIFE 


Btichner,  his  influence  upon 
Russia,   212. 

Bukarest,  T.  at,  231. 

Byrou,  his  inlluence  on  Rus- 
sian literature,  212. 

Carpenter,  E.,  270. 
Catherine  I.,  literature  in  her 

reign,     207,    and    Franklin, 

211. 
Caucasus,  T.  in  the,  221  ;  and 

see  247. 
Channiug,  299. 
Chernaya,  232. 
Chernysh6vski,  215. 
Chevalier,  254. 
Chevrier,  254. 
Chlkin,  243. 

Childhood,  221,  224,  278,  291. 
Childhood,  Boyhood,  and  Youth, 

222  ;  and  see  219,  226,  232, 

294. 
Christ  and  T.,  293. 
Christian    life,  glorification  of 

the,  227  ;  meekness  as  viewed 

by  T.,  242. 
Christian  Teaching,  The,  299. 
Christianity  and  T.,  292. 
Civilization,  as  viewed   by  T., 

245. 
Comine  il  faut,  and  T.,  247. 
Compromise  and  Anglo-Saxons, 

213. 
Confession,  purpose  of  a,  222. 
Contemporary,  The,  221. 
Cossacks,  The,  247  ;  and  see  221, 

225,  241,  254,  274,  284,  291. 
Crimea,  231. 

Critics,  their  influence  on  Rus- 
sian literatm-e,  212. 
Critique  of  Dogmatic   Theology, 

291,  294. 
Cutting  of  the  Forest,  The,  231, 

242. 


Daniel  tlie  Palmer,  214. 

Dante,  307. 

Death,    in    T.'s    works,    225 ; 

Nikoldy's,      238;      in      T.'s 

family,    20 1  ;    T.'s   thoughts 

of,  262. 
Death  of  Ivan  Ilich,  226.  274. 
Decembrists,  the,  214,  256,  278, 

289. 
Del^sov,  244. 

Democracy  in  Russia,  216. 
Didacticism    in    T.'s    writings, 

244. 
Dolly,  287. 
Domestic    Happiness,  250 ;    and 

see  284. 
Dostoevski     classed    with     T., 

205. 
Dreams  in  T.'s  works,  244. 
Dresden,  T.  in,  237. 
Druzhlnin,  235. 
Dukhobors,  300. 

Ecclesiastes,  290. 
Education,  T.  and.  265. 
Education  and  Culture,  267. 
Epishka,  221. 
Ergolski,  E.  A.,  220. 
Eroshka,  221,  248. 
Euripides,  259. 

Faith,  the  simple  of,  224. 
Famine,  T.'s  views  on  the,  257. 
Fedor,  246. 
Fet,    232,   235,   251,   254,  255, 

256,  258,  262,  289. 
Flamande,  la  belle,  226. 
Four  Gospels    Harmonized    and 

Translated,  The,  291. 
Franklin,  and  Lomonosov,  207  ; 

and  Radishchev,  211. 
Frobel,    Julius,    and    T.,    237, 

251. 
Fruits  of  Enlightenment,  303t 


INDEX    TO    LIFE 


323 


GXltsin,  242. 

Garrison.  212,  299. 

George,  Heiiry,  270,  302. 

German  characteristics,  as 
treated  by  T.,  223. 

God  Sees  the  Truth,  274. 

Gogol,  2.59. 

Goncharov's  Oblo'mov,  215. 

Gospel  criticism,  T.'s,  294. 

Gothe,  his  influence  on  Karam- 
zin,  212;  and  see  2o9. 

Greek,  Catholicism  and  Slavo- 
philism, 217 ;  T.'s  study  of, 
259. 

Grigorovich,  208,  233. 

Hafiz,  235. 

Happiness,  true,  defined  by  T^ 

230,  249. 
Hegel,  212. 
Helena,  282,  283,  284. 
Herzen,  his   Who  Is  to  Blame? 

215;  and  the  West,  216. 
History,  as  viewed  by  T.,  279. 
Hoffmann,  241. 
Holy  Ghost,  blasphemers  of  the, 

281. 
Homer,  259,  260. 
Hopedale  Community,  212. 
Hypocrisy,  detested  by  T.,  246. 

Ilytjtka,  230. 

Tncursion,  The,  221,  229. 

Jusincerity  hated  by  T.,  245. 

Ippolit,  282. 

irt^nev,    222,    224,    227,  228, 

246,  249,  283,  293. 
lsI6nev,  253. 

Jefferson,       Thomas,       and 

Alexander  I.,  207. 
Jones,  John  Paul,  207. 
Journey  from  St.  Petersburg  to 

Moscow,  207. 


Kant,  258,  264. 

Karatdev,  Platon,  227, 243, 246, 

283,    284.  ■ 
Karenin,  287. 
Karl  Ivdnovich,  222. 
Katavilsov,  287. 
Katyusha,  305. 
Kazdn,  220. 
Kinfjdom    of    God    within    You, 

The,  298. 
Kissingen,  237. 
Kitty,  287. 
Kozeltsov,  242. 
Koznyshev,  287. 
Kraft,  223,  243. 
Kraut,  223. 

Kreutzer  Sonata,  The,  303. 
Kutiizov,  280. 

Leipsic,  237. 

Lelewel,  251. 

L6rmontov,  211,  212,  215. 

Levin,  224,  230,  278,  285,  287, 
293. 

Liberals  and  T.,  206. 

Liberty,  its  evolution  in  Amer- 
ica and  in  Russia,  209. 

Linen-Measurer,  The,  254. 

Literature,  its  office  in  Kussia, 
209 ;  in  the  reign  of  Alex- 
ander I.,  210  ;  its  mission  in 
Russia,  211. 

Life,  299. 

Longfellow,  211. 

Love,  as  viewed  by  T.,  249 

Lowell,  211. 

Lucerne,  234,  245. 

Maksimov,  243. 
Marco  Polo,  214. 
Markov.  269. 
Mdrya,  219,  282. 
Maiyanka,  249. 
M^ha,  250. 


324 


INDEX    TO    LIFE 


Masons,  207,  282. 

Master  and  Workman,  22G,  245. 

Memoirs    of    a     Marker,    2i4, 

291. 
Mikhaylov,  241. 
Mikula  Selyanlnovich,  234. 
Mimi,  226. 
Moleschott,  212. 
Moliere,  259. 
Morninq  of  a  Landed  Proprietor, 

A,  220,  221,  229,  247. 
Moscow     Acquaintance     at     the 

Front,  A,  243. 
Mother,  T.'s  love  for  a,  226. 
Motherhood,    and    love,    250 ; 

preached  by  T.,  287. 
Murat,  281. 
My   Confession,  224,  240,  289, 

291,  294,  306. 
My  Religion,  299. 

Napoleon,  280. 

Nat%a    Sdvishna,    226,    240, 

242,  246,  283. 
Natdsha,  282,  283,  284,  287. 
Nature,  T.'s  love  of,  225;  as 

viewed  by  T.,  248. 
Nekhlytidov,    222,     228,     230, 

231,  244,  246,  249,  283,  293, 

305. 
Nekrdsov,  221,  232. 
Nicholas    I.,  literature   in    his 

reign,  211 ;  and  T.,  231. 
Nietzsche,  223. 
Nihilists,  214. 
Nikita,  303. 
Nikitin,  214. 
Nikolciy,  see  Tolst6y. 
Non-compromise    of    Russians, 

212. 
Novel,  Russian,  and  its  hero, 

215. 
Novikov  and  Rush  compared, 

207. 


Officers  characterized,  243. 

Oleiiin,  247,  249,  293. 

On  Popular  Education,  264, 
275. 

On  the  Teaching  of  the  Rudi- 
ments, 266. 

6sten-Saken,  220. 

Ostrovski's  Storm,  236. 

Palmerston,  251. 

Paris,  T.  in,  234,  236. 

Parker,  212,  299. 

Pascal,  290. 

Peasants,     Russian,     rational, 

214 ;  as  treated  by  T.,  229. 
Pedaqogical  Essays,  264. 
People,  the,  defined,  216. 
Perfection,    as   viewed   by    T., 

271. 
Perfectionism,  T.'s  early  form 

of,  266. 
Perfectionists,  212,  295. 
Pest,  242. 

Peter  the  Great,  219. 
Peter  Parley,  299. 
P6tya,  282,  284. 
Pfuel,  223. 
Philosophy,  German,  its  effect 

on   Russia,    212,   215;    T.'s, 

249. 
Pierre,  283 ;  and  see  228,  230, 

277,  280,  282,  287,  293. 
Plato,  260,  264. 
Platon,  see  Karatdev. 
Poe,  241. 

Poetry,  Russian,  its  decay,  211. 
Poinset,  207. 
Pol6tika,  his  book  on  America, 

207. 
Polikushka,  244,  254 
Pouter  of  Darkness,  303. 
Praskiikhin,  242. 
Prisoner  of  the   Caucasus,  The, 

261,  274. 


INDEX    TO    LIFE 


325 


Progress  and  literature  in  Rus- 
sia, '209 ;  as  viewed  by  T., 
246. 

Progress  and  the  Definition  of 
Education,  269. 

Project  of  a  General  Plan  for 
the  Establishment  of  Popular 
Schools,  267. 

Protestantism,  208. 

Proudhou,  251. 

Proverbs,  Solo7non's,  290. 

Public  opinion  and  literature 
in  Russia,  210. 

Pushkin,  207  ;  and  liberty, 
211 ;  influenced  by  Byron, 
212 ;  his  Evge'ni  Onye'gin, 
215  ;  and  see  259,  274. 

Pyatigorsk,  221. 

Quakers,  299. 

RADfsHCHEV,    and     Franklin, 

211 ;    and   Rush    compared, 

207. 
Rationalism  of  Russia,  214. 
Reformation,  208. 
Religion,    the     foundation    of 

morality,  246. 
Resurrection,  224,  2.%,  .304. 
Revolt,  its  importance  pointed 

out,    208 ;      and    Wliitman, 

211. 
Revolution,  208. 
Revolutionists,    206 ;    and   T., 

214. 
Rosenkranz,  223. 
Rossel,  220. 
Rost6v,  Ilya  Andr^evich,  219 ; 

Vy6ra,    223;    and    see    282, 

287. 
Rousseau,  T.   under  his  spell, 

222 ;    his    naturalism,    248 ; 

and    T.,   271;    and  see   225, 

228,  292. 


Rudolph,  221. 

Rush  and  Novikov  compared, 
207. 

Russia,  and  America,  their  rela- 
tions in  the  beginning  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  207  ;  its 
literature  hard  to  appraise, 
207 ;  its  divergencies  from 
America,  208 ;  its  literature 
analyzed,  209  ;  its  literature 
compared  with  that  of  Amer- 
ica, 210 ;  without  traditions, 
212. 

Russians,  their  zeal  in  adopting 
foreign  ideas,  212;  their 
rationalism,  214 ;  character, 
its  negative  qualities,  215 ; 
character,  its  faults,  230. 

Russian  Messenger,  253,  263. 

Ryly^ev,  and  the  Decembrist 
revolt,  211. 

St.  Petersbukg,  T.  iu,  220. 

St.  Thomas,  220. 

Saintly  fool,  224. 

Samdra,  journeys  to,  253,  260, 

261. 
Satires   in   Russian  literature, 

210. 
Schelling,  242. 
Scherer,  281. 
School,  T.  teaching,  253,  260  ; 

the  real,  265. 
School  at  Ydsnaya  Polydna,  The, 

272,  279. 
Schopenhauer,  223,   258,   262, 

289,  293. 
Schuyler,  258,  261. 
Schweizerhof,  234,  245. 
Sects  in  Russia,  214. 
Self-renunciation,  249. 
Sergy6y  Mikhdylovich,  250. 
Sermon  on  the  Mount,  295. 
Sevastopol,  229,  231,  241,  280. 


326 


INDEX    TO    LIFE 


Sexual  instinct,  inferiority  of 

the,  250. 
Shakespeare,  259. 
Shakers,  299. 
Silistria,  231. 
Sincerity,    a    characteristic    of 

T.,  218 ;    as    a   criterion    of 

art,  222. 
Shivery,  abolition  of,  208. 
Slavophils,  217. 
Snobbery,  T.'s  so-called,  243. 
Snowstorm,  The,  241,  244. 
Sofiya  Behrs,  254. 
Soldiers  and  officers  contrasted, 

242. 
S6nya,  284,  287. 
Sophocles,  259. 
Sterne,     his     influence     upon 

Karamzin,  212. 
Stettin,  237. 
Stiva  Oblonski,  286. 
Storm  and  stress,  T.'s,  247. 
Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher,  208. 
Suicide,     thoughts     of,     244, 

291. 
Switzerland,  T.  in,  234. 

Tatyana  Aleksdndrovna,  256. 

Three  Deaths,  226,  241,  246. 

Tolstoy,  variously  classed,  205  ; 
as  viewed  in  Russia,  206 ; 
contradictory  opinions  about 
him,  206  ;  a  nature  of  gigan- 
tic proportions,  206 ;  his 
youth,  207 ;  his  sincerity, 
208 :  and  his  biography, 
218  ;  his  ancestry,  219  ;  is 
all  in  his  writings,  219  ;  his 
earliest  years,  219  ;  his  uni- 
versity life,  220  ;  his  dissipa- 
tions, 221 ;  entering  the  army 
in  the  Caucasus,  221  ;  not 
endowed  with  natural  graces, 
222  ;  his  religiousness,  223  ; 


his  thoughts  on  death,  225  ; 
his  love  of  outdoor  life,  225  ; 
his  doubling,  228  ;  his  inter- 
nal struggle,  228  ;  and  the 
peasant,  229 ;  his  military 
life,  231  ;  his  life  of  reck- 
lessness, 232 ;  his  dissipa- 
tions, 232 ;  his  love  of  dis- 
putations, 233  ;  his  dandy- 
ism, 233 ;  his  first  journey 
abroad,  234 ;  and  gymnas- 
tics, 234  ;  his  love  of  poetry, 
235  ;  his  farming,  236  ;  his 
second  journey  abroad,  237  ; 
aifected  by  his  brother's 
death,  238  ;  his  style,  241  ; 
his  early  view  of  war,  241  ; 
his  inward  life  differing 
from  his  outward  life,  241; 
his  snobbery,  243 ;  his 
thoughts  of  suicide,  244  ; 
and  dissipation,  247 ;  his 
European  journey,  251;  his 
marriage,  253 ;  his  kumys 
cure,  253 ;  his  pedagogical 
experience,  253 ;  his  wife 
characterized,  254;  -his  idea 
about  running  a  farm,  254  ; 
his  self-debasement,  256 ; 
and  the  famine,  257  ;  his  de- 
light in  Schopenhauer,  258; 
his  study  of  literature  and 
Greek,  259  ;  failing  health, 
260 ;  teaching  school  and 
writing  primers,  260  ;  losing 
interest  in  his  works,  262  ; 
his  view  of  the  Bashkirs, 
262  ;  his  thought  of  death, 
262  ;  his  sensitiveness  to 
false  notes,  264  ;  and  popular 
education,  264 ;  his  perfec- 
tionism, 266  ;  his  view  of 
universities,  268  ;  his  early 
economic     ideas,    270 ;    his 


INDEX   TO    LIFE 


327 


attitude  toward  civilization, 
270  ;  his  doubts  and  strug- 
gles, 276 ;  his  process  of 
artistic  creation,  278  ;  his 
dual  nature,  291 ;  and  Chris- 
tianity, 292;  and  Christ, 
293 ;  and  abstract  truths, 
296 ;  and  the  Gospel  pre- 
cepts, 297  ;  his  negative  atti- 
tude, 298 ;  his  ideas  about 
art  and  science,  298 ;  his 
obligation  to  America,  299  ; 
his  respect  for  civilization, 
301 ;  his  latest  activity,  302; 
his  character,  305 ;  and 
Christianity,  307. 

Tolst6y,  Ilyd,  Andr^evich,  219  ; 
Mdrya,  219;  Nikoldy,  219, 
221,  234,  237,  238,  252,282; 
Nikoldy  Illch,  219;  Peter 
Andr^evich,  219 ;  Sergy^y, 
221. 

Tros^nko,  243. 

Tiirbin,  245. 

Turg^nev,  classed  with  T.,  206  ; 
and  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,  208  ; 
and  his  Fathers  and  Sons, 
212,  213,  215;  his  Memoirs 
of  a  Hunter,  229  ;  and  T.,  232, 
235  ;  criticized,  236  ;  his  in- 
fluence on  T.,  241 ;  his  rup- 
ture with  T.,  251 ;  T.'s  dis- 
like of,  257  ;  his  wish  con- 
cerning Anna  Kare'nin,  261, 
262. 

Tico  Hussars,  245. 

Tyrolese,  a,  245. 

Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,  its  effect  on 
Russia,  208 ;  and  political 
struggle,  209. 

University  life,  T.'s,  220. 


Varenka,  287. 
VasIIi,  Prince,  282. 
Velenclii'ik,  243. 
Venus  de  Milo,  274. 
Vereshchdgin,  281. 
Verigin,  300. 
Viardot,  Madame,  262. 
Violence,     T's    opposition    to, 

295. 
Volkouski,  Mdrya  Xikoldevna, 

219. 
Voltaire,   T.    reading,    at   ten 

years,  220. 
Voss,  260. 
Vronski,  286. 

Wagner,  223. 

War,    as   viewed   by   T.,   241, 

280. 
War  and  Peace,  278 ;  and  see 

219,  227,  228,  243,  258,  262, 

276,  291. 
Westerners,  217. 
What  Is  Art?  272,304. 
Whitman  and  revolt,  211. 
Whittier,  211. 
William  II.,  223. 
Women,  as  treated  by  T.,  284. 

Xenophon,  259,  260. 

Yasnaya  Polydna,  219. 
Ydsnaya  Polydnn,  253,  264. 
Year  1805,  The,  256,  279,  285. 
Youth,  246;  and  see  221,  228, 

267,  283. 
Yufdn,  234. 
Yufanizing,  235,  254. 
Yiishkov,  P.  I.,  220. 

ZhdXnov,  243,  246. 
Zhukovski,  260. 


ON  THE  PRONUNCIATION  OF 
RUSSIAN   WORDS 


ON  THE  PRONUNCIATION  OF 
RUSSIAN   WORDS 


The  transliteration  of  Eussian  words  in  the  present 
tiauslation  is  strictly  etymological,  that  is,  the  words  are 
rendered  precisely  as  they  are  spelled  in  Russian,  without 
any  reference  to  their  pronunciation.  This  method  is  the 
only  rational  one,  as  it  is  quite  impossible  in  most  eases 
to  give  a  precise  idea  of  the  original  pronunciation,  while 
in  some  cases  we  get  uncouth  forms,  such  as  the  prepos- 
terous ending  off,  in  which  some  translators  revel.  The 
only  exception  has  been  made  in  the  case  of  the  name 
Peter,  which  in  Eussian  is  spelled  Petr,  to  avoid  the  puz- 
zling ending. 

Eussian  pronunciation  generally  follows  the  spelling  so 
closely  that  the  reader  will  come  very  near  the  correct 
form  if  he  shall  give  the  vowels  the  Continental  values  {a 
like  a  in  far,  e  like  e  in  let,  i  like  i  in  hit,  o  like  a  in  all, 
u  like  u  in  put,  y,  if  not  followed  or  preceded  by  a  vowel, 
like  y  in  pity),  and  the  consonants  their  English  values 
(g  as  in  get,  kh  as  ch  in  German  ach,  zh  as  z  in  azure,  y 
before  and  after  a  vowel  as  y  in  yet). 

Those  who  want  to  approximate  the  correct  pronuncia- 
tion more  closely  must  observe  these  additional  rules  : 

1.  E  and  i  sound  ye  and  yi  respectively  after  d,  t,  I,  r, 
and  n,  and  e  sounds  also  ye  after  h,  p,  w,  and  /. 

331 


332        PRONUNCIATION   OF   RUSSIAN   WORDS 

2.  E  beginning  a  syllable  and  in  the  beginning  of  a  word 
is  always  ye. 

3.  E  when  accented  generally  sounds  yo,  but  o  after  sh 
and  ch  (the  index  will  indicate  all  the  cases  when  e  is  to 
be  read  yo  or  o). 

4.  0  before  the  accent  sounds  like  short  ah. 

5.  Final  consonants  sound  hard,  that  is,  g  like  k,  d  like 
t,  h  like  p,  V  like  /,  z  Hke  s,  zh  like  sh. 

Thus  Audrey  sounds  Andr-yey  (Engl,  yea),  by  1 ;  Rostov 
—  Bastof,  by  4,  5  ;  Baevski  —  Ra-ycf-ski,  by  2,  5  ;  -fiTo- 
novnitsyn — Ka-navn-yi-tsin,  by  4,  4,  1;  Arakcheev  — 
A-rak-che-yef,  by  2,  5.  For  this  reason  Tolstoy's  name  is 
approximately  Tahl-stSy,  while  Zcv  is  L-yef,  though  popu- 
larly this,  by  3,  may  be  L-yof,  and  Nikoldevich  is  N-yi- 
ka-ld-ye-vich. 

It  may  be  mentioned  here  that  the  middle  name  gener- 
ally ending  in  vich  (sometimes  in  ich  or  ych)  for  men,  and 
in  vna  for  women,  is  a  patronymic,  meaning  as  much  as 
"  son  of,"  or  "  daughter  of,"  the  name  to  which  the  ending 
is  attached.  It  is  proper  form  to  address  persons  we 
know,  not  by  their  family  names,  with  Mr.,  Mrs.,  or  Miss 
attached  to  them,  but  simply  by  their  given  name  and 
patronymic.  Peasants  and  servants  are  addressed  by  their 
first  name  only,  but  if  they  are  advanced  in  years,  they 
are  generally  known  by  their  patronymic  alone. 

The  accent  is  in  Russian  quite  irregular,  and  in  proper 
nouns  frequently  puzzling.  In  the  index  the  accents,  now 
and  then  divergent  in  the  text,  have  been  given  according 
to  the  best  information  obtainable,  and  in  the  few  cases 
where  the  index  ditfers  from  the  text,  it  is  the  first  that 
should  be  given  preference. 


INDEX 

To  Thoughts  and  Names  in  Tolstoy's  Works 


INDEX 

To  Thoughts  and  Names  in  Tolstoy's  Works 


Abdul-Murat,  xii.  100. 

Abrdmov,  ii.  320. 

Abstinence,  the  first  step,  xix. 
371 ;  now  not  regarded  a 
virtue,  376  ;  not  inculcated 
upon  children,  378  ;  defined, 
391  ;  no  good  life  without 
it,  391  ;  and  fasting,  392 ; 
not  a  private  matter,  xxiii. 
87.  See  also  Continence, 
Fasting,  Vegetarianism. 

Activity,  Christian,  xix.  130, 
136,  149,  178  ;  every  human, 
evoked  by  three  factors,  xxiv. 
86. 

Acts,  three  kinds  of,  xix.  118. 

Adulteress,  of  the,  xv.  163. 

Adultery,  thou  shalt  not  com- 
mit, xiv.  237  ;  command- 
ment about,  xvi.  68  ;  caused 
by  proximity,  generally  in 
music,  xviii.  383. 

Ji]sop's  fables,  xii.  3. 

Esthetic  pleasure,  xxii.  146. 

.(Esthetics,  see  Beauty. 

Afandsev,  iv.  262,  270. 

Afr6mov,  iii.  107. 

Agdfya,    xvii.    51 ;  —  Mikhdy- 


lovna,   1.  215;   iii.  443;   ix, 

146. 
Agnosticism  defined,  xvi.  419. 
Agrafena  Petrovna,  xxi.  17. 
Akhniet,    iii.    70;  —  khan,    ii. 

163. 
Akhroslmov,  see  Mdrya  Dmitri- 

evna. 
Akim,  i.  18 ;  xviii.  83. 
Akinfi,  vi.  336. 
Aksdkov,   xii.   271,   xvii.   377, 

383,  xxiii.  301. 
Aksiitov,  xii.  213. 
Aks6nov,  xii.  72. 
Aksinya,  xviii.  200. 
Aksyusha,  iii.  267. 
Aksyutka,  iii.  405,  xxii.  65. 
Akulina,    iii.     398 ;    xvii.    61 ; 

xviii.  83  ;  xxiii.  420. 
Akvllka,  xii.  466. 
Alabin,  ix.  4. 
Aldnin,  i.  468. 
Albert,  iii.  191. 
Aleb,  xii.  463. 
Alekha,  iii.  470. 
Aleksy6ev,  xviii.  4. 
Aleksy6y  Iviinovich,  iii.  25. 
A16nin,  vi.  463. 


336 


336 


INDEX 


Aleshka,  iii.  37 ;  x.  37. 

Alexander  the  Great,  xxii.  313. 

Alexander  J.,  v.  5,  xx.  253, 
xxiii.  169,  413. 

Alexander  II.,  xxii.  ,536. 

Alexander  III.,  xx.  409,  449, 
xxii.  .536,  xxiii.  156. 

Alfons  Kilrlych,  v.  393. 

Aline,  xxi.  365. 

Alison,  xxii.  148,  168. 

Allen,  Grant,  xxii.  148,  168. 

Alms,  xiv.  272. 

Alpdtych,  V.  353. 

Amdlia  Tvdnovna,  ii.  220. 

America,  its  jiopular  education, 
iv.  4  ;  its  school  system,  28, 
61 ;  public  lectures  in,  144 ; 
theology  in,  xiv.  8  ;  and  the 
Fiji  Islands,  xvii.  112  ;  and 
the  army,  xx.  178  ;  and  mili- 
tary service,  215;  and  the 
Venezuelan  trouble,  469  ;  its 
literature  criticized,  xxiii. 
293  ;  and  non-resistance, 
394  ;  message  to  its  people, 
462.  See  also  xi.  123,  xx. 
172,  177, 199,  xxiii.  157,  184, 
208,  and,  Arena,  Ballou,  Bel- 
lamy, Bryan,  Burns,  C ban- 
ning, Cleveland,  Cooper, 
Crosby,  Edison,  Emerson, 
Forum,  Garrison,  George, 
Glodwin,  Herron,  Higginson, 
Ingei'soll,  Lowell,  McKinley, 
Parker,  Paine,  Parley, 
Quakers,  Redbeard,  Savage, 
Shakers,  Stockham,  Stowe, 
Thoreau,  Whitman,  Whit- 
tier. 

Amfil6khi,  vi.  173. 

Amiel,  his  diary,  xx.  501. 

Amvrosi,  xxiii.  233. 

Analytic  mind,  result  of  rea- 
soning, i.  221. 


Anarchism,  cannot  be  insti- 
tuted, xxiii.  521,  526. 

Anastdsya,  xii.  200. 

Anatol,  V.  7. 

Anatoli,  iii.  89;  —  Ivdnych,  i. 
495. 

Andr6,  Pere,  xxii.  156. 

Audrey,  ii.  92  ;  (Bolkonski),  v. 
9  ;  — Illch,  ii.  24  ;  —  Sevas- 
tyflnych,  vii.  88. 

Andryiisha,  viii.  383. 

Angele  Frangoise,  xviii.  440. 

Anger,  vanquished,  illustra- 
tive story.  The  Fiend  Per- 
sists, But  God  Resists,  xii. 
463  ;  commandment  about 
it,  xiv.  232,  xvi.  63  ;  ruins 
men's  good,  xvi.  208  ;  cainal 
love  and  anger  the  same 
manifestations,  xviii.  364. 
See  also  xix.  116,  119,  101. 

Anichkin,  x.  214. 

Animal  food,    see 
ism. 

Animation  in  school,  iv.  298. 

Anisim,  xii.  396  ;  xvii.  244. 

Anisya,  xviii.  83  ;  xxi.  -317  ;  -- 
Fedorovna,  vi.  377. 

Anna,  Empress,  xix.  504  ;  — 
Arkddevna,  ix.  9  ;  —  Dmi- 
trievna,  i.  400  ;  —  Fedorovna, 
iii.  127;  —  Ignd,tevna,  xxi. 
279  ;  —  Ivdnovna,  iii.  21 1  ; 
—  Makdrovna,  viii.  407;  — 
Mikhdylovna,  v.  22;  — Pdv- 
lovna,  V.  3;  —  Vasilevna, 
xxii.  94. 

Annunzio,  xxiii.  290. 

Annushka,  i.  465  ;  iii.  227  ;  ix. 
157. 

Anoshenka,  ii.  526. 

Anton,  vi.  153. 

Antonov,  ii.  379  ;  479  ;  v.  320. 

Antonovich,  iv.  132. 


Vegetarian- 


INDEX 


337 


Anyiitka,  xviii.  83. 
Apollon  Sergy^ich,  ii.  444. 
Apostles,      choosing      of      the 

twelve,  xiv.  292. 
Appulov,  xxiii.  494. 
Apniksiu,     xt.     206 ;      Stepdn 

Stepflnovich,  vii.  132. 
Apraksine,    Cointesse,    v.    54 ; 

Victor,  xxi.  280. 
Aptokhiu,  Maksim,  xix.  283. 
Apiikhtin,  xxiii.  293 ;    Evg6ui 

Iviinovich,  xi.  168. 
Apykhtin,  Ivdn  Petrovich,  xii. 

223. 
Arago,  xxii.  52. 
Arakch^ev,  vi.  229,  xix.  505. 
Arbeitskiir,  x.  35. 
Arbitration,  impracticable,  xx. 

141,    xxiii.    439.      See    also 

Hague  Conference. 
Arena,  xx.  95. 
Arlna,  ii.  43. 
Arinka,  ii.  352  ;  vi.  374. 
Arinushka,  xix.  430. 
Aristocratic  feeling,  in  Tolstoy, 

i.  447;  absurd  in  Russia,  ii. 

337. 
Aristophanes,  xxii.  253. 
Aristotle,  iv.  6,  xvi.  248,  xvii. 

145,  235,  XX.  119,  138,  xxii. 

185,  194,  496. 
Arithmetic,  wrong  methods  of 

instruction,  xii.  265. 
Arkhdrovs,  v.  63. 
Arkhip,  x.  214. 
Armenians,  xxiii.  148. 
Armfeldt,  vii.  34. 
Army,    standing,    a    curse,    iv. 

166;     needed    for    physical 

enslavement,  xvii.  142;  cause 

of    European    suffering,    xx. 

127  ;    at  tlie  base  of  power, 

172  ;      needed     against    the 

subjects,  178;   chief  support 


of  ownership  of  land,  xxiv. 
148.  See  nho  Military  ser- 
vice. Soldiers,  War. 

Arnold,  Gottfried,  xx.  68. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  xvi.  410,  xx. 
50,  xxiii.  290. 

Ars^nev,  iv.  337. 

Art,  first  ideas  on,  i.  220;  chief 
qualities  of,  iv.  197  ;  what  is 
it  for?  251  ;  teaching,  340; 
appreciated  by  the  masses, 
344  ;  necessary  for  the 
masses,  347  ;  criticism 
(painting),  x.  359 ;  realism 
in,  xi.  223;  what  is  art? 
xiii.  23 ;  emancipated  from 
labour,  xvii.  221  ;  what 
has  advanced  humanity, 
255  ;  what  it  has  accom- 
plished, 262  ;  in  the  service 
of  the  rich,  267 ;  it  should 
serve  the  masses,  268  ;  true, 
defined,  278  ;  religious,  279  ; 
it  cannot  be  directed  to  the 
harm  of  men,  283  ;  self- 
renunciation  the  share  of 
men  of,  285  ;  true,  defined, 
286;  What  Is  the  Truth  in 
Art?  357;  What  .Ts  Artf 
xxii.  135;  vast  labour  wasted 
in,  135;  life  wasted  on,  136; 
criticism  self  -  destructive, 
141;  sacrifices  for  its  sake 
not  justified,  143 ;  of  cook- 
ing, 146 ;  no  objective  defi- 
nition of  it,  173;  defined  as 
that  which  pleases,  173  ; 
what  pleases  us  cannot  sei-ve 
as  its  definition,  170  ;  is  the 
conveyance  of  our  own  feel- 
ing to  another,  179 ;  the 
activity  which  conveys  the 
religious  consciousness,  184  ; 
its  appreciation  depends  ou 


338 


INDEX 


the  comprehension  of  the 
meaning  of  life,  186;  why 
the  beautiful  became  the 
principle  of,  190  ;  the  higher 
classes  have  lived  without 
true,  201;  modern,  not  all 
art,  203  ;  our,  foreign  to  the 
masses,  205;  must  convey 
new  sensations,  207 ;  pride 
element  of,  210 ;  despoiid- 
ency  an  element  of,  211 ; 
become  exclusive  and  ob- 
scure, 218  ;  incomprehensi- 
bility of  modern,  229 ;  all 
good  foreign,  affects  us,  231; 
has  given  way  to  imitation, 
236;  borrowing  in,  237  ;  imi- 
tation in,  238 ;  effectiveness 
in,  239  ;  entertainingness  in, 
244  ;  adulterated,  249  ;  con- 
ditions productive  of  adul- 
terated, 249;  professionalism 
in,  249 ;  criticism  cause  of 
deterioration  of,  250;  schools 
of,  most  harmful,  254 ;  true, 
cannot  be  taught,  255 ; 
various  arts  cannot  be 
blended,  260  ;  people  -have 
lost  power  of  telling  true, 
276 ;  peasant  songs  true, 
277 ;  infectiousness  of,  a 
criterion,  284;  three  condi- 
tions of  its  infectiousness, 
285;  sincerity  in,  286;  de- 
termined by  the  religious 
consciousness,  289  ;  not  in 
agreement  with  the  religious 
consciousness  condemned, 
292;  Christian,  not  yet  es- 
tablished, 294;  Christian, 
contributes  to  the  iinion  of 
men,  295;  divides  into  re- 
ligious and  universal,  299 ; 
specimens  of  higher,  300;  or- 


naments as,  304;  bad,  305; 
distortion  of  the  two  organs 
of,  308;  its  distortion,  due 
to  waste  of  labour,  309  ;  —  , 
due  to  its  serving  the  rich, 
310; — ,  confuses  the  children 
and  the  masses,  31 1 ;  achieves 
ecclesiastic  and  patriotic  cor- 
ruption, 315 ;  corrupts  the 
sexual  relations,  316;  faith- 
lessness cause  of  its  decay, 
319;  striving  after  the  true 
ideal,  321;  fraternal,  322; 
of  the  future,  324  ;  — ,  will 
not  be  studied  in  schools, 
326;  —  ,  will  not  be  produced 
by  professionals,  326  ;  com- 
plete security  pernicious  to, 
327  ;  its  sphere  widened  in 
the  future,  329  ;  its  relation 
to  science,  333 ;  its  mission, 
342 ;  Tolstoy's  idea  of,  mis- 
understood, xxiii.  73.  See 
also  Beauty. 

Ai'tificiality  of  Tolstoy's  writ- 
ings confessed,  iv.  193. 

Artist,  the  true,  xix.  185. 

Artistic,  composition  defined, 
iv.  198;  feeling  in  child 
author,  200;  activity  con- 
sidered harmful  to  the  la- 
bourers, xvii.  214;  produc- 
tions, how  to  be  judged,  xx. 
506. 

Ascension,  Christ's,  xv.  352. 

Asceticism  not  taught  by 
Christ,  xvi.  153. 

Assassinations  of  kings.  Thou 
Shalt  Not  Kill,  xxiii.  169. 

Assisi,  Francis  d',  xx.  73,  xxii. 
191,  193. 

Astdfev,  X.  388. 

Atanov,  iii.  88. 

Athanasius,  xii.  468. 


INDEX 


339 


Atik  Murza  Kcachara,  xii.  129. 

Attila,  XX.  470. 

Auersperg,  v.  254. 

Augustine,  iv.  7,  xx.  71. 

Authorship,  of  children,  iv. 
193  ;  mistakes  of,  209  ;  vices 
of,  xiii.  11  ;  value  of,  xx. 
502. 

Avdotya  Xikolaevna,  iii.  405  ; 
—  Vasilevna,  i.  399. 

Av^neva,  xi.  109. 

Awkwardness,  personal,  affect- 
ing the  mind,  i.  100. 

Baba,  iv.  379. 

Babists,  xxiii.  316. 

Babiirin,  ii.  46. 

Bach,  his  music  a  fiction,  ii. 
97.  See  also  xxii.  251,  253, 
278,  303. 

Bacon,  xvi.  248. 

Bad,  who  is,  xix.  117. 

Baden,  Prince  of,  vii.  32. 

Bagration,  v.  273. 

Bakldshev,  ii.  305. 

Baklashov,  Peter,  xxi.  36. 

Bakulov,  xxii.  36. 

Baldga,  vi.  505. 

BaMshev,  vii.  17. 

Balfour,  xvi.  419. 

Ballou,  Adin,  and  non-resist- 
ance, XX.  12.  See  also  xx. 
483,  xxiii.  123,  462. 

Bandarchiik,  v.  308. 

Bdnin,  ix.  121. 

Bank,  what  it  is,  xviii.  131. 

Baptism,  by  John,  xiv.  58. 

Rarauov,  xx.  321. 

Barclay  de  Tolly,  vii.  34. 

Baroness,  xviii.  188. 

Bartlett.  G.  D.,  xx.  131. 

Bartnyanski,  xl.  272. 

Bartyanski,  Diiner,  xi.  342. 

Bashkirs,  xii.  472,  xvii.  459. 


B;tsov,  vi.  342. 

Bassano,  vii.  19. 

Batrishchev,  ii.  435. 

Batteux,  xxii.  156. 

Battle,  first  experience  of  a,  v. 
233  ;  not  what  generally 
thought  to  be,  240;  descrip- 
tion of,  at  the  Enns,  223  ; 
at  Pratzen,  447. 

Baudelaire,  xxii.  214,  216,  309, 
313. 

Baunigarten,  xxii.  148,  196. 

Baushkin,  Ivdu  Mironovich, 
xii.  238. 

Bazdy^ev,  Makdr  Aleksy^e- 
vich,vii.  459  ;  Osip  Aleksy^e- 
vich,  vi.  100. 

Bazin,  Ren6,  xxiii.  288. 

Be,  Ivdn  Semenovich,  xxi.  402. 

Beaumarchais,  viii.  451. 

Beausset,  vii.  301. 

Beauty,  attracted  by  personal, 
i.  81 ;  defined,  iv.  220 ;  unites 
men,  xvii.  420 ;  not  identical 
with  goodness,  xviii.  327 ; 
what  is,  xxii.  147 ;  in  the 
Russian  language,  148;  as 
defined  hj  European  ;esthe- 
ticians,  153 ;  cannot  be  the 
basis  of  the  concept  of  art, 
177 ;  substituted  for  religion 
in  art,  194;  defined,  199. 
See  also  xxi.  165,  and  Art. 

Bebel,  xxiii.  256. 

Beethoven,  feelings  evoked  by, 
i.  41,  228;  studying,  384; 
Quasi  una  Fantasia,  iii.  287; 
and  the  peasants,  iv.  344 ; 
flatters  our  freaky  irritabil- 
ity and  weakness,  345  ;  not 
as  fine  as  popular  songs, 
345  ;  and  Kreutzer  Sonata, 
xviii.  307,  391  :  Fifth  Sym- 
phoni/,  xxii.   10.")  ;   criticized, 


340 


INDEX 


253;   Opus  101,  278;    Ninth 

Symphony,    306.     See  also  i. 

228,    iii.    209,  ix.  176,  xvii. 

282,  28-1,  xxii.  228,  252,  253, 

303,  305. 
Beggars,    i.  151,  xvi.  20,  xvii, 

4. 
Beile,  xxiv.  82. 
Bek^tov,  xix.  537. 
Bekleshov,  vi.  24. 
Bellamy,  xx.  351,  xxiv.  22. 
Belliard,  v.  264. 
Bemis,  xx.  483. 
B6nard,  xxii.  152,  195. 
Benefactors,  society,  xvii.  54. 
Beneficeiicfe,  xix.  186. 
Benigsen,  vii.  15. 
Berg,  V.  92. 
Bergmaun,  xxii.  163. 
Berkoshev,  ix.  181. 
Berlioz,  xxii.  228,  253,  305. 
Bernhardt,  Sarah,  xviii.  65. 
B6rnov,  xxii.  33. 
Bert6nev,  x.  116. 
Bertet,  iv.  336. 
Berthe,  Mme.,  ix.  347. 
Berthelot,  xxiv.  78. 
Berthier,  vii.  38. 
Bessieres,  vii.  38. 
Bestiizhev  Marlinski,  ii.  93. 
Betsy,  xviii.  187,  and  see  Tver- 

skoy. 
Bezoby^dov,  i.  434. 
Bezukhi,  Kirill  Vladimii-ovich, 

V.  58  ;  Pierre,  see  Pierre. 
Bezuliikov,  ix.  181. 
Bezzubov,  xi.  276. 
Bibish,  xi.  342. 
Bible,  as  a  study,  iv.  6  ;  need 

of   cheap,    for    tlie    masses, 

172;  unabridged,  ought  to  be 

given   to  the   children,  308; 

best   book    for  pupils,   310; 

stories  highest  art,  xxi.  232; 


stories,  their  immorality, 
xxiii.  382.' 

Bichat,  xvii.  231. 

Biernadski,  iv.  334. 

Bilibin,  v.  250. 

Biographical  data  for  Tol- 
stoy's life,  iii.  393,  iv.  83, 
106,  134,  178,  191,  200,  295, 
345,  374,  xii.  43,  46,  51,  53, 
56,  58,  60,  05,  68,  82,  92, 
160,  165,  170,  172,  174,  176, 
183,  284,  xiii.  3,  93,  xiv.  5, 
xvi.  3,  xvii.  4,  xix.  175,  196, 
xxii.  159,  xxiii.  3,  227. 

Biron,  xx.  321. 

Biryukov,  see  Feodosya. 

Biryuzovski,  xi.  109. 

Bltski,  vi.  294. 

Blasphemy,  against  Christ,  xxi. 
201 ;  against  the  Holy  Ghost, 
xiii.  438,  xv.  204. 

Blessedness  is  the  doing  of 
blessedness,  xvi.  441. 

Blind  man  restored  to  sight, 
XV.  34. 

Blokhin,  xvii.  304. 

Boccaccio,  xxii.  211. 

Bochkova,  Evflmiya  Iv^novna, 
xxi.  40. 

Bocklin,  xxii.  227,  253,  309. 

Bodrov,  Elis^y  Kuzmich,  xii. 
409. 

Bogaev,  Tvtin,  ii.  357. 

Bogatyrev,  xxi.  416. 

Bogdanovich,  viii.  265. 

Bogdclnych,  v.  216. 

Bogodukhovski,  Vy^ra  Efr6- 
movna,  xxi.  247. 

Bogomils,  xxiii.  334. 

Bohemians,  xxiii.  148. 

Bol,  Peter  Petrovich,  xi.  168. 

Bolgdriuov,  xi.  261. 

Bolkhdv,  ii.  501. 

Bolkhovltinov,  viii   152. 


INDEX 


341 


Boik6nski,  Andr^y,  see  Andr^y ; 
Xikoldy  Andr^evich,  v.  139. 

Bonaparte,  iv.  177,  v.  25.  See 
also  Napoleou. 

Bondar^nko,  v.  204. 

Bondarev,  his  teaching,  xvii. 
397.  See  also  xvii.  303,  xx. 
50. 

Bonin,  ix.  58. 

Books,  for  the  masses  do  not 
exist,  iv.  33 ;  not  effective 
with  the  working  people,  37; 
for  peasant  children,  263 ; 
usefulness  of,  xxiii.  322. 

Boris,  V.  22. 

Boris  Godundv,  xxiii.  156. 

Borotyntsev,  iii.  95. 

Borozdind,  xi.  282. 

Borshchev,  ii.  223. 

Borzozowski,  vi.  341. 

Bosse,  Vincent,  viii.  197. 

Botany,  Stories  from,  xii.  170. 

Boulanger,  xx.  225,  311,  321, 
439,  451,  xxiii.  156. 

Bourbon,  xxiii.  156. 

Bourdier,  xviii.  193. 

Bourget,  xxii.  279. 

Bourienne,  Mile.,  v.  139. 

Bragging  of  the  military,  ii. 
367. 

Brahmins,  their  definition  of 
life,  xvi.  244 ;  their  concep- 
tion of  religi(jn,  xxiv.  77  ; 
degeneration  of  their  relig- 
ion, 88. 

Brahms,  xxii.  228,  253,  830. 

Brilntsev    iv.  217. 

Bravery,  defined,  i.  463,  493 ; 
of  a  Russian  soldier,  ii.  523  ; 
of  a  Russian  soldier  and  an 
officer,  355,  500. 

Bread,  of  life,  xiv.  341  ;  man 
lives  not  by  —  alone,  370; 
work,  xvii.  398  ;  — ,  illustra- 


tive legend,  T7te  Kernel  of  the 

Size  of  a  lien's  Egg,  448. 
Brekhunov,     Vaslli    Andr^ich, 

xix.  423. 
Breton,  Jules,  xxii.  300,  321. 
Br(5ve,  xxi.  32. 
Bronnicki,  vii.  144. 
Brother,    death    of    Tolst6y's, 

xiii.  14. 
Broussier,  viii.  150. 
Bruno,  xvii.  282. 
Brutality,  of  soldiers,  iii.  105  ; 

of    war-making  power,   viii. 

140 ;  non-resistance  to,  illus- 
trative story.  The  Candle,  xii. 

395. 
Bryan,  xxiii.  514. 
Brydnski,  ix.  300. 
Bryiillov,  xix.  353,  xxii.  256. 
Biichnei-,  iv.  132. 
Buckle,  iv.  132,  163,  167,  178, 

viii.  430. 
Buddha,  and   the  question  of 

life,  xiii.  34;  his  definition 

of  life,  xvi.  244,  and  see  xvi. 

113,  248,  xvii.  280,  384,  xx. 

477,  xxii.  313,  361,  368. 
Buddhism,  defined,    xvi.   104; 

xix.   522 ;    its   degeneration, 

xxiv.  88. 
Buddhists,  xviii.  341. 
Bukshevden,  Nadine,  xxi.  276. 
Bulgaria,  xxiii.  486. 
Biilka,  xii.  51,  58,  62,  65. 
Bunakov,  xii.  251. 
Burgmuner,  iv.  360. 
Burke,  xxii.  155. 
Burldk,  ii.  121. 
Buriie-Jones,  xxii.  309. 
Burns  Co.,  xviii.  439. 
Business  dulls  comprehension, 

xix.  48. 
Butler,  XX.  73. 
Buxhovden,  v.  276. 


342 


INDEX 


Buzovkin,  xxii.  64. 
Byeldvski,  xxi.  277. 
Byel6tski,  ii.  214. 
Byelinski,   iv.    122,   132,    xvii. 

227,  391. 
Byeloi-6tski,  ii.  3. 
Byelyakov,  xvi.  181. 
By6shev,  xii.  216. 
Bykov,  V.  207. 
Byron,  xix.  377,  xxii.  211. 

Cacabo,  xvii.  112. 

Csesar,  what  is  his,  xvii.  372 ; 
tribute  to,  xix.  500 ;  atid  see 
viii.  443. 

Caine,  Hall,  xxiii.  292,  293. 

Caligula,  xx.  194, 

Calvin,  xxii.  191. 

Camp,  Maxime  de,  xx.  149. 

Capelle,  ii.  91. 

Capitalists,  and  labourers,  what 
their  equality  before  the  law 
consists  in,  xxiv.  43.  See 
also  Rich. 

Caprivi,  xx.  178,  211. 

Carnal,  lust,  i.  166  ;  kinship, 
xiv.  370. 

Carnot,  xxiii.  171,  326. 

Caro,  XX.  502. 

Carpenter,  E.,  xxiii.  105. 

Cassiodorus,  iv.  160. 

Castries,  vii.  28. 

Catherine  I.,  xix.  504. 

Catherine  II.,  xiii.  441,  xvii. 
223,  xix.  332,  502,  504,  xx. 
225,  247,  321,  xxiii.  156. 

Catholicism  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  xxii.  192. 

Caucasus,  stories  in  the,  TTie 
Incursion,  i.  461 ;  The  Cos- 
sacks, ii.  81 ;  The  Cutting  of 
the  Forest,  477  ;  Meeting  a 
Moscoio  Acquaintance  at  the 
Front,    iii.    3  ;    stories    and 


incidents  in  the,  xii.  53,  56, 
62,  65,  68,  92. 

Cause  defined,  xiv.  25. 

Celibacy,  ideal  of,  xviii.  448 ; 
higher  than  domestic  life, 
499. 

Cell,  life  in  the,  x\i.  230. 

Censorship,  xix.  188,  xx.  48, 
xxiii.  522. 

Census,  to  investigate  the  needs 
of  the  poor,  xvii.  23  ;  On  the 
Moscow  Census,  343  ;  to  sei^ve 
for  purposes  of  philanthropy, 
345. 

Cervantes,  xxii.  301. 

Chcigin,  X.  69. 

Chalm(5,  vi.  483,  xii.  184,  253. 

Chamberlain,  xxiii.  156,  174, 
458. 

Chance  defined,  viii.  346. 

Change  of  life,  ii.  89. 

Channing,  xxiii.  462. 

Character  defined,  xvi.  355. 

Charcot,  xviii.  350,  xxi.  107. 

Charity,  real,  xix.  247.  See  also 
Beneficence,  Philanthropy. 

Charlemagne,  xxii.  188. 

Charles  I.,  xix.  502,  xx.  247, 
xxiii.  169. 

Charles  V.,  xx.  253,  xxiii.  58. 

Charles  X.,  xviii.  449. 

Charmeur,  xviii.  15. 

Charski,  x.  333,  xxi.  363. 

Chase,  see  Hunting. 

Chastity,  an  ideal,  xviii.  424 ; 
enjoined  by  the  Gospel,  430  ; 
greatest,  to  be  stri-^en  for, 
445  ;  the  only  ideal  of  Christ, 
448  ;  approach  to,  449  ;  must 
be  obtained  through  effort  of 
the  will,  455  ;  a  sign  of  per- 
fection, 456 ;  and  conscious- 
ness, 472 ;  in  marriage,  485, 
499, 


INDEX 


343 


Chateaubriand,  viii.  342. 

Chatrov,  vi.  435. 

Chechens,  ii.  101. 

Checheuski,  xi.  215. 

Chekmii-,  Semen,  vi.  355. 

Chelcickv  and  non-resistance, 
XX.  71^  xsii.  22,  193. 

Ch^nier,  xvi.  379,  xxii.  221, 

Clierbuliez,  xxii.  166. 

Cherkdslienin,  Mishka,  xii.  125. 

Chernov,  ii.  513 ;  Mikhail 
Ivanovich,  xxi.  277. 

Chernovitski,  ii.  445. 

Chernyshev,  vii.  61 ;  xii.  227. 

Chernysh^vski,  iv.  132. 

Chervydnski,  xxi.  366. 

Chevalier,  ii.  81 ;  xii.  188. 

Chevet,  iv.  355. 

Chlbisov,  Masha,  x.  212. 

Chichag6v,  viii.  241. 

Chigirin,  Kiirpushka,  vii.  249. 

Chikhaev,  xii.  215. 

Chlkin,  ii.  488,  xii.  198. 

Childbirth,  Liza's,  vi.  57; 
Anna's,  x.  269  ;  Kitty's,  xi. 
249. 

Childhood,  Boyhood,  and  Youth, 
i.  3. 

Childlessness,  H^lene's,  vi.  41  ; 
Anna's,  xi.  132  ;  a  crime,  xvii. 
47. 

Children,  life  of  village,  iv.  69  ; 
superiority  of  — 's  compre- 
hension, 191  ;  and  punish- 
ment, 241  ;  their  education, 
viii.  416  ;  Fables  for  Children, 
xii.  3  ;  Stories  for  Children, 
39  ;  alertness  of  peasant,  259  ; 
except  ye  become  as  little, 
illustrative  story,  Little  Girls 
Wiser  Than  Old  People,  466  ; 
be  like,  xv.  140  ;  of  Ilzluinov 
House,  xvii.  48 ;  can  be 
brought  up   only  by  a  real 


mother,  337  ;  now  considered 
bothersome,  xviii.  359  ;  con- 
sidered an  obstacle,  368  ; 
procreation  of,  has  lost  its 
pvu-pose  in  modern  society, 
421 ;  not  brought  up  for  their 
good,  422  ;  help  the  coming 
of  the  kingdom  of  God,  456  ; 
destroy  criminality  of  the 
sexual  relation,  478  ;  unwel- 
come, 480 ;  to  do  God's  work, 
483  ;  and  Christianity,  xix. 
t)4 ;  not  taught  abstinence, 
378  ;  deceived  by  the  church, 
XX.  86  ;  their  right  to  be 
well  born,  499  ;  their  educa- 
tion more  important  than 
books,  xxiii.  374  ;  the  bene- 
fit of,  374  ;  dead,  528. 

Chilikin,  Mltri,  xviii.  199. 

China,  and  Eiu-ope,  iii.  256, 
259  ;  and  schools,  iv.  20 ; 
not  progressive,  162.  See 
also  xvii.  171,  xix.  184,  522, 
XX.  174,  263,  265,  xxiii.  155, 
174,  207,  xxiv.  124.  See  also 
Confucius,  Mi-ti,  Taoism. 

Chopin,  xxiii.  228,  278,  303. 

Christ,  not  God,  xiii.  262,  266, 
XV.  52,  xix.  85,  xxiii.  472;  the 
word  explained,  xiv.  20,  his 
birth,  50  ;  general  meaning 
of  his  preaching,  62  ;  his 
temptation  in  the  wilder- 
ness, 63 ;  his  preaching  in 
Nazareth,  97  ;  his  discourse 
with  a  woman  of  Samaria, 
135 ;  dining  with  Simon, 
141  ;  the  door  of  life,  xv. 
44  ;  why  Jesus  calls  himself, 
190 ;  his  wavering,  271  ; 
his  rules  easy  of  execution, 
xvi.  16,  or  man's  law,  23; 
not  a  continuator  of  Moses, 


344 


INDEX 


46  ;  his  commandments,  62 ; 
teaches  people  not  to  do  any- 
thing foolish,  165;  his  defi- 
nition of  life,  244,  304  ;  still 
living,  368 ;  his  embassy, 
460 ;  gave  no  definition  of 
life,  xviii.  427  ;  living,  xix. 
83  ;  the  teacher,  129. 

Christian,  recognizes  himself 
as  a  rational  being,  xvi.  419  ; 
what  he  may  do,  xvii.  371  ; 
work,  xix.  139  ;  concept  of 
life,  xxii.  372;  truth,  diffi- 
culty in  executing  it,  xxiii. 
544. 

Christian  life,  xix.  100  ;  reward 
of  a,  xxii.  457  ;  in  the  future, 
459  ;  of  the  Dukhobors,  465  ; 
strength  for  a,  xxiii.  465. 

Christian  teaching,  its  essence, 
xiii.  450;  it  is  good,  xiv.  8; 
not  to  be  interpreted,  xvi.  4  ; 
and  the  dogmas,  9  ;  touches 
the  general  questions  of  state, 
22;  to  be  judged  as  Christ 
himself  understood  it,  40; 
in  accord  with  human  nature, 
42 ;  enforced  by  acts,  89  ; 
gives  peace  to  men,  92  ;  not 
impracticable,  95  ;  easy  of 
execution,  163;  a  protestant- 
ism, 195  ;  as  new  as  ever, 
200 ;  is  the  light,  202  ;  ac- 
ceptable to  Jews,  Buddhists, 
etc.,  203  ;  consists  in  the 
meaning  ascribed  to  life,  xvii. 
406  ;  illustrative  story,  Walk 
in  the  Liyht  While  Ye  Have 
Light,  xix.  3 ;  not  a  doctrine 
of  rules,  83  ;  opposed  to  gov- 
ernment, 499 ;  concealed  by 
the  church,  xx.  53 ;  ex- 
plained, 54 ;  causes  of  its 
miscomprehension,  113;  par- 


amount in  pri  ite  life,  204 ; 
and  liberty,  2  1:;  explained, 
xxii.  305,  544  consists  of 
dogmas  and  th^.  moral  teach- 
ing, xxiii.  27  ;  defined,  423. 

Christianity,  the  teaching  of 
equality,  brotherhood,  and 
love,  vi.  164  ;  its  truth  veri- 
fiable in  the  soul,  xi.  409  ; 
what  it  is,  xv.  373,  384 ; 
consists  in  the  five  rules,  xvii. 
380  ;  not  external  tenets, 
xviii.  426  ;  true,  will  save  the 
masses,  xix.  322  ;  its  corrup- 
tion a  necessity,  xx.  191  ; 
incompatible  with  allegiance 
to  government,  218  ;  des- 
troys the  state,  252  ;  and  the 
savages,  265  ;  Christianity  and 
Patriotism,  383  ;  incompatible 
■with  patriotism,  476  ;  not  a 
sect  or  faith,  xxii.  495  ;  de- 
parture of,  xxiii.  16 ;  true, 
the  only  salvation,  222 ;  its 
distortion,  450  ;  its  degenera- 
tion, xxiv.  89 ;  absurdity  of 
church,  91 ;  and  rules  of 
religion,  100. 

Christians,  ought  to  love,  not 
fight,  ii.  385 ;  who  are  the 
true,  xvi.  198;  not  separated 
from  non-Christians,  xix. 
120  ;  commanded  to  renounce 
Christ,  491 ;  there  can  be  no 
ruling,  XX.  248. 

Chrysostom,  xvi.  45,  xx.  37, 
73. 

Church,  service  described,  iii. 
316,  X.  322,  xxi.  197;  the 
infallible,  disappointing  to 
Levin,  xi.  366  ;  the  infallible, 
xiii.  74  ;  Critique  of  Dogmatic 
Theology,  93  ;  defined,  307  ; 
the  hierarchy,  319 ;   its  fal- 


INDEX 


345 


lacy,  32 ;  its  feature,  394 ; 
the  infallible,  442  ;  meaning 
of  the  word,  444  ;  the  true, 
449  ;  there  is  no,  xiv.  6  ;  doc- 
trine about  tlie,  cause  of  di- 
vision, 9 ;  regards  Gospel 
impracticable,  17 ;  teaching 
contrary  to  the  Gospel,  17  ; 
its  doctrine  defined,  97 ; 
based  on  salvation  in  faith, 
103  ;  its  teaching  irrational, 
178  ;  in  agi-eement  with  the 
■world,  187 ;  has  no  explana- 
tion of  life,  188 ;  has  lost 
hold  of  the  sciences  and  arts, 
189 ;  a  useless  organ,  198  ; 
has  concealed  the  Christian 
teaching,  xx.  53;  not  founded 
by  Christ,  61 ;  defined  by 
the  churches,  62 ;  always 
hostile  to  Christ's  teaching, 
71 ;  its  Christianity  criti- 
cized, xxi.  201  ;  disastrous 
effect  of  the,  upon  the  peas- 
ants, xxii.  373  ;  Church  and 
State,  xxiii.  11  ;  deception 
of  the,  13  ;  the  word  defined, 
14  ;  how  it  was  established, 
18  ;  its  teaching  a  curse,  il- 
lustrative article,  Need  It  Be 
So  ?  195  ,•  its  teaching  cause 
of  calamities,  217  ;  cannot 
be  tolerant,  300  ;  wliat  it  is. 
304  ;  corrupting  influence  of 
its  faith,  376  ;  on  the  decep- 
tion of  the,  419;  uu-Christian, 
Letter  to  a  French  Pastor, 
496 ;  origin  of  its  infallibil- 
ity, xxiv.  90  ;  its  religion  an 
aid  to  power,  113. 

Churfs,  Ivin,  ii.  8. 

Chuvashes,  xxi.  6,  xxiii.  508. 

Cicero,  iv.  6. 

Circassians,  ii.  93,  xx.  264. 


Cities,  the  upbraiding  of  the, 

xiv.  163. 
City  life  an  obstacle  to  domes- 

tic  happiiiess,  xviii.  367. 
Civiliza*^ion,  criticized,  iii.  257  ; 

disadvantages    of,    iv.    145 ; 

xix.  109  ;   useless  with  slav- 
ery, xxiv.  29. 
Claii'voyant,  xi.  275. 
Claparede,  vii.  345. 
Claretie,  xx.  164. 
Cleanliness,  its  extravagancies, 

xvii.  83. 
Clementi,  xxi.  255. 
Cleopatra,  xxii.  330. 
Cleveland,  xx.  470. 
Coco,  see  Klingen. 
Coleridge,  xxiii.  236. 
Commandments,  the  chief,  xiv. 

404  ;  Christ's,  xvi.  62. 
Comme  il  faut,  i.  388. 
Commerce,  curse  of,  illustrative 

story,    Ivan     the    Fool,     xii. 

481.^ 
Commune,  restrictions  upon  it 

in  matters  of  education,  iv. 

60  ;  the   Russian,  xvii.  103  ; 

The  Commune  and  the  World, 

xxiii.  434. 
Communion,  feeling  about  it, 

xiii.  78.     See  also  Eucharist. 
Communism    explained,   xxiv. 

158. 
Compans,  vii.  309. 
Compassion,  xvii.  43,  xix.  99. 
Composition,  how  to  teach  it, 

iv.  191,  283. 
Comprehension,    defined,    xiv. 

24  ;   Jesus  Christ's,  wherein 

it  consists,    46 ;  incarnation 

of,  50;  the  life  of  the,  190; 

of   the    spirit   of   truth,    xv. 

311.     See  also  xiv.  177,  185. 
Compulsion    in    education,    iv. 


346 


INDEX 


3,10;  its  effect  upon  chil- 
dren, 17 ;  stated,  110 ;  in 
German  schools,  xii.  284. 

Comte,  xvi.  248,  xvii.  231,  six. 
518,  525,  XX.  93,  xxi'i.  110. 

Concord  in  marriage,  xviii. 
482. 

Confession,  preparing  for,  i. 
271 ;  Levin's  feeling  con- 
cerning, x.  309  ;  My  Confes- 
sion, xiii.  3. 

Confncianism  defined,  xvi.  101:. 

Confucius,  learned  by  rote,  iv. 
6  ;  his  definition  of  life,  xvi. 
244 ;  on  the  array,  xx.  478. 
See  also  xvi.  248,  283,  xvii. 
225,  280,  384,  xix.  80,  116, 
xxii.  361,  xxiii.  245. 

Conquest,  history  of,  xvii.  110. 

Conscience,  and  life,  xix.  131; 
discrepancy  between  them, 
342  ;  the  voice  of,  and  pas- 
sive resistance,  xxiv.  7 1 . 

Consciousness,  doulding  of,  xvi. 
261 ;  — ,  due  to  confusing  ani- 
mal life  with  human  life, 265; 
rational,  has  no  beginning, 
267  ;  — ,  due  to  false  teach- 
ing, 269  ;  — ,  most  know- 
able,  284; — ,  its  demands, 
306  ;  — ,  confirmation  of  its 
demands,  310  ;  — ,  the  de- 
mands of  personality  seem 
incompatible  with  it,  315 ; 
— ,  personality  to  be  sub- 
jected to  it,  318  ;  clear  during 
the  commission  of  a  crime, 
xviii.  409  ;  and  life,  xix.  132 ; 
human  activity  determined 
by  barely  perceptible  changes 
in    it,    353;     religious,    now 


stronger 
338. 


than 


ever, 


XX. 


Cousecutiveness,  in  action,  xix. 


367  ;  virtues  ineffective  with- 
out it,  373. 

Consei'vatism  of  peasants,  ii. 
16. 

Constant  B.,  xxiv.  82. 

Constautine,  xix.  504,  xxii. 
188,  410,  xxiii.  10. 

Constitution,  plan  for  a,  To  the 
Tsar  and  His  Associates,  xxiii. 
479. 

Continence,  the  ideal  of  the 
human  race,  xviii.  342  ;  of 
men  a  necessity,  350,  454. 

Contradiction  between  life  and 
right,  XX.  118. 

Cooper,  ii.  191. 

Copernicus,  viii.  490. 

Copp(5e,  XX.  491. 

Cord,  ix.  301. 

Correction,  schools  of,  xxiii. 
373. 

Correlation  defined,  xiv.  25. 

Cossacks,  ii.  81,  102,  xii.  124. 

Coster,  xxii.  166. 

Coulaincourt,  vii.  38. 

Countess,  xviii.  188. 

Country,  university  given  up 
for,  ii.  3  ;  education  ineffect^ 
ive,  iv.  24 ;  love  of  life  in 
the,  X.  3. 

County  Councils,  Levin's  op- 
l^osition  to  them,  ix.  79,  x. 
12 ;  and  the  Government, 
xxii.  533. 

Courts,  useless,  x.  16  ;  impossi- 
bility of,  XV.  168 ;  not  per- 
mitted by  the  Gospel,  xvi. 
25  ;  proceedings,  xxi.  27 ; 
their  aim  the  maintenance 
of  class  interests,  xxi.  471. 

Cousin,  xxii.  164. 

Cow  (Pdva),  ix.  145,  148,  240. 

Crime,  innate  in  children,  i, 
197;    and    punishment,    iv. 


INDEX 


347 


238;  committed  under  in- 
toxication, xix.  '^H. 

Criminals  to  be  subjugated  by- 
public  opinion,  xx.  26'd  ;  five 
categories  of,  xxi.  ioi. 

Criminology  criticized,  xxi. 
457. 

Criticism,  it  should  point  out 
how  things  should  be,  xii. 
311;  of  artistic  productions, 
XX.  506,  510;  and  art,  xxii. 
141;  of  art  disastrous,  251; 
true,  xxiii.  290;  true,  only 
guide  in  education,  294. 

Cromwell,  xx.  247. 

Crookes,  xxi.  135,  xxiii.  49. 

Cruelty,  xix.  93;  of  our  times, 
xxiv.  97. 

Cuba,  xxiii.  166. 

Culture,  defined,  iv.  106,  109, 
142,  xxiii.  361,  364;  its 
influence  in  universities  bad, 
iv.  135 ;  European,  not  as- 
similated by  Russia,  141. 
See  also  Enlightenment. 

Cyril,  xix.  12. 

Czartoryzski,  Adam,  v.  413. 

Daily   Chronicle,   Letter  to   the, 

xxii.  544. 
Dal,  iv.  172. 
D'Alembert,  xxii.  156. 
Dalmas,  J.  C,  criticized,  xxii. 

281. 
Damascene,  xiii.  95,  125. 
Damiens,  xix.  255. 
Danch^nko,  Yiiri  Dmltrievich, 

xxi.  37. 
Danilo,    iii.    153;    vi.    349;  — 

Ter^ntich,  vii.  533. 
Dante,  xxii.  251,  253,  307. 
Daragdn,  xii.  285. 
Darwin,  Charles,  xvi.  414,  xvii. 

205,  xxii.  52,  168. 


Darwin,  Erasmus,  xxii.  168. 

Darwinism  criticized,  xvii. 
323. 

Dilrya  Aleksdndrovna,  see 
Dolly. 

Daryiilov,  x.  69. 

Daudet,  xi.  224. 

David,  xvii.  280. 

Davidson,  J.  M.,  xxiv.  160. 

Davout,  vii.  25. 

Davyd,  ii.  4. 

Davydka  the  White,  ii.  36. 

Davydov,  iii.  106;  vii.  372. 

Death,  has  no  terrors,  i.  136; 
thought  of  it  affecting  ac- 
tion, ii.  197;  love  of,  vi.  251  ; 
thought  of  it  conducive  to 
peace,  x.  216;  thought  of 
(Levin's),  xi.  373 ;  carnal, 
XV.  297;  awaits  you,  xvi.  110  ; 
painless,  condition  of  iiappi- 
ness,  102;  dread  of  death, 
309,  xix.  184,  188;  does  not 
destroy  the  special  relation 
to  the  world,  xvi.  351  ;  terror 
of  death  due  to  false  concep- 
tion of  life,  358 ;  entrance 
into  a  new  relation,  363; 
superstition  of,  due  to  con- 
fusion of  man's  relations  to 
the  world,  372;  cause  of, 
380;  not  an  evil,  xxiii.  511 ; 
and  suifering,  539. 

Death  .scenes,  mother's,  i.  121; 
Nattilya  Sdvishna's,  134; 
grandmother's,  235;  of  a 
Chechen,  ii.  133;  Three 
Deaths,  iii.  263;  Liza's,  vi. 
57;  Nikoldy  Bolkonski's,  vii. 
195;  Audrey  Bolkonski's,  viii. 
83;  P6tya's,  216;  Nikohly 
Levin's,  x.  404;  The  Death  of 
lidn  Ilich.  xviii.  3;  in  the 
Kreutzer  Sonata,  413  ;  Master 


348 


INDEX 


and  Wnrhman,  xix.  423.  See 
alsov.  110,  126. 

Debaucliery,  xviii.  320,  323. 

Debi'as,  xii.  205. 

Decembrists,  xii.  181,  xxi.  389, 
xxii.  530,  xxiii.  95,  521. 

Deceptions,  practised  by  men 
in  power  on  the  masses,  xx. 
297;  of  faith,  xxii.  407;  —  , 
its  origin,  408;  — ,  its  com- 
mission, 409  ;  —  ,  evil  due  to, 
412; — ,  liberation  from,  413  ; 
— ,  inspired  from  childhood, 
416  ;  — ,  produced  by  appeal 
to  external  senses,  417  ;  of 
mediation,  418;  of  the 
chtu'ch,  needed  as  a  justifica- 
tion, xxiii.  419,  452  ;  struggle 
against,  506. 

Deeds,  good,  better  than  exter- 
nal worship,  illustrative 
story.  The  Two  Old  Men,  xii. 
409. 

Defourny,  Abb6,  xx.  131. 

Defregger,  xxii.  301. 

Delaroche,  xxii.  228. 

Del^sov,  Dmitri  Ivdnovich,  iii. 
192. 

Demands  of  the  time  meaning- 
less, iv.  159. 

Demidov,  xvii.  94, 

Demkin,  ii.  21. 

Demochkin,  xix.  451. 

Democratic  feelings,  aristo- 
cratic feelings  giving  way  to, 
i.  447. 

Democritus,  xix.  518. 

Demydn,  vi.  55,  xii.  82. 

Demydnych,  iii.  95. 

Denlsov,  Kirill  Andrcievich,  vii. 
239;  Vdska,  V.  204. 

Denzel,  iv.  50,  xii.  276. 

Derviz,  xvii.  94. 

Derzhdvin,  iv.  171. 


Desalles,  vi.  530. 

Descartes,  xvii.  423,  xix.  518, 
xxiv.  96. 

Descriptive  passages,  harvest,  i. 
28;  morniug,  142;  storm, 
149  ;  spring,  255,  257  ;  before 
the  rain,  341  ;  summer  in 
tlie  garden,  393 ;  summer 
night,  397  ;  morning  in  the 
Caucasus,  406  ;  night  on  tlie 
march,  479  ;  night  in  the  Cau- 
casus, 497  ;  night  in  the 
city,  ii.  81  ;  Cossack  village, 
107 ;  morning  in  a  forest, 
189  ;  August  in  the  Caucasus, 
244  ;  vintage  in  the  Caucasus, 
245 ;  holiday  evening  in  the 
Caucasus,  272 ;  morning  in 
the  harbour  of  Sevastopol, 
311 ;  scene  in  Sevastoi)ol, 
402 ;  July  in  the  country,  iii. 
55 ;  night  at  Lake  Lucerne, 
237 ;  spring  in  the  city, 
273 ;  daybreak  in  the  forest, 
279 ;  summer  night  in  the 
country,  295 ;  hot  day  in  the 
autumn,  302  ;  autumii  night 
in  the  country,  311 ;  late 
autumn,  332 ;  after  sunset 
in  spring,  380 ;  evening  les- 
sons, iv.  242  ;  spring  in  the 
city,  xxi.  3 ;  thunderstorm, 
511. 

Despair,  iii.  100;  through  lack 
of  faith,  xiv.  5. 

Despondency  in  art,  xxii. 
211. 

Dessaix,  vii.  308. 

Development  in  pedagogy  criti- 
cized, xii.  251. 

Devil,  see  Tempter. 

Devotion,  described,  i.  45; 
Natalya  Sdvishna's,  127. 

Diana,  xviii.  439. 


INDEX 


349 


Dickens,  ix.  66,  xxii.  228,  300, 
801,  821,  xxiii.  298. 

Diderot,  viii.  451,  xix.  518,  xxii. 
156. 

Diesterweg,  iv.  106,  xii.  276. 

Diet,  see  Vegetarianism,  Glut- 
tony, Abstinence,  Intemper- 
ance. 

Dimmler,  Eduard  Karlych,  vi. 
3S5. 

Dina,  xii.  f)8. 

Diplomatists  characterized,  v. 
251. 

Disagreement  and  unity,  xix. 
158;   necessary,  ISO. 

Disarmament  and  Russia,  xxiii. 
153.  See  also  Hague  Con- 
ference. 

Disciples,  CKrist's  first,  xiv.  94; 
Christ's  discourse  to  his,  305. 

Discipline,  its  injurious  eifect 
upon  children,  iv.  18;  exist- 
ence of  governments  based 
on,  xxiv.  61. 

Diseases  and  sins,  xix.  144, 

Dissatisfaction,  xix.  127,  xxiii. 
543. 

Divinity  of  Christ,  oi'igin  of 
the  dogma,  xiii.  301. 

Divorce  and  marriage,  xv.  154  ; 
not  permitted,  xvi.  70. 

Dmitri,  ii.  478  ;  vi.  4,  xi.  253  ; 
—  Andreevich,  ii.  85  ;  — 
Nikoldevich,  i.  329 ;  —  Vaslle- 
vich,  V.  54. 

Doctors,  criticized,  vii.  92,  ix. 
184,  xviii.  350,  354;  their 
evil  effect,  323 ;  interfere 
with  domestic  life,  356.  See 
also  fiduard  Ivdnovich,  Me- 
tivier,  Peter  Dmitrievich,  and 
viii.  392,  xviii.  34,  188, 
361. 

Dogs,  Bdlka,  xii.  51;  Erzii,  vi. 


368;  Karatdfiv's,  viii.  65, 227  ; 

Kardy,  vi.  354;  Krak,  xi.40; 

Ldska,  ix.  40,  152  ;  Lyam.  ii. 

115  ;  Lyubin,  vi.  361 ;  iMilka, 

i.    15,    vi.     349,    viii.    405; 

JMilton,  xii.  58 ;    Rugdv,  vi. 

369;  Trunila,  vi.  354Mj]ya- 

shin,  xii.  112;  A^iflydnka,  v. 

354;  Voltorn,  vi.  365  ;  Zhirdn, 

i.  30 ;  Zhuchka,  v.  444. 
Dogma,  definition  of,  xiii   99; 

destroj'S  faith,  205  ;  history 

of,  273. 
Dokhtm-ov,  v.  425. 
Dolgoriiki,  Yviri  Vladlmirovich, 

vi.  19. 
Dolgoriikov,  v.  410. 
Dolly,  ix.  5. 
Ddlokhov,  v.  46. 
Dolzhnikov,  ii.  389, 
Domela,  xxiii.  546. 
Domestic,  nnhappiness,iii.  335; 

happiness,     viii.     397 ;     life 

(Levin's),  x.   373 ;    Domestic 

Happiness,  iii.  283. 
Domostroy,  xviii.  314,  339. 
Donon,  xviii.  15. 
Dorokhov,  viii.  150. 
Dorpat  student,  i.  426. 
Dostoevski,  xvii.  252,  380,  xix. 

354,  xxi.  68,  xxii.  300,  321, 

xxiii.  40. 
Doubt  in  the  existence  of  God 

not  harmful,  xvi.  418,  xix. 

151. 
Doumic,  xxii.  211,  215. 
Dousset,  XX.  163. 
Dove,  P.  E.,  xxiv.  160. 
Dozhoveyko,  vi.  342. 
Drabanti,  xi.  336. 
Dragomirov,    xxiii.    267,    269, 

275. 
Dram,  x.  69. 
Drawing  teaching,  iv.  348. 


350 


INDEX 


Drawn et,   parable  of  the,  xiv. 

192. 
Dream,  Rostov's,  v.  436;  An- 

dr6y's,  viii.  87  ;  P^tya's,  212  ; 

Nikoldy's,  427;  Anna's,    x. 

193,  xi.  308;    Tolstoy's,  xiii. 

88.     See  also  iii.  54,  67,  461, 

vi.  260. 
Dresses    fan     passion,    xviii., 

445. 
Drdmov,  iii.  21. 
Dron,  vii.  203. 
Drozhzhin,  Epilogue  to  "  Drozh- 

zhin's  Life  and  Death"  xix. 

491,  xxiii.  136,  317. 
Drubetskoy,  see  Anna  Mikhdy- 

lovna,  and  Boris. 
Drums,  and  brutal  power,  viii. 

140;   Labourer  Emel^dn  and 

the  Empty  Drum,  xvii.  499. 
Druzhinin,  xx.  509. 
Dubkov,  i.  239. 
Dubovitski,  iv.  409. 
Due,  xxii.  97. 
Due  de  Lille,  ix.  176 
Dufar,  xxi.  354. 
Dukhobors,    Help  !   xxii.    465  ; 

Persecution  of   Christians    in 

Russia  in   1895,   xxiii.  311; 

Two  Letters  to  the  Leader  of 

the  Dukhobors,  P.  V.  Verigin, 

322;    Nobel's   Bequest,    332; 

An  Appeal  in  Behalf  of  the 

Dukhobors,  338 ;  Letters  to  the 

Dukhobors,    343  ;     Letter    to 

Nicholas   II.,  353.     See  also 

xvi.  415,  xxiii.  123,  133,  443. 
Dumas,  beauties  in,  iv.  7 ;  read 

by   the  masses,   23;  and  see 

i.  385,  450,  ii.  222. 
Dumas,  his  letter  to  the  Gaulois 

analyzed,  xxiii.  43. 
Dundyka,  ii.  120. 
Duncker,  iv.  315. 


Dunduk,  ii.  50. 

Diinichka,  i.  406. 

Diinka,  iv.  268. 

Dunyasha,  iii.  395,  vi.  414,  x. 

318. 
Duport,  vi.  11. 
Dupuis,  iv.  352. 
Dussot,  ix.  91. 
Dutlov,  ii.  52  ;  iii.  391. 
Dvoruikov,  xxi.  129. 
Dyadenko,  ii.  440,  iii.  158. 
Dyevkin,  Makar,  xxii.  42. 
Dymond,    on    war,   xx.   6,   25, 

xxiii.  123. 
Dzliingis  Khan,   xvi.  35,  xvii. 

242,  XX.  172,  199,  290,  xxii. 

313. 

Eating  -  houses,  xix.  282,  292, 
xxii.  504. 

Eckraulil,  vii.  307. 

Economic  development,  history 
of,  xvii.  118. 

Edison,  xx.  470. 

Eduard  Ivanovich,  iii.  266. 

Educated  people,  superiority  of 
uneducated  over,  iv.  145  ;  not 
improving  zoologically,  145. 

Education,  On  Popular  Educa- 
tion, iv.  3 ;  religious,  8 ;  and 
virtue,  9 ;  On  Methods  of 
Teaching  the  Rudiments,  32  ; 
and  reading  not  identical, 
35 ;  historical  progress  of, 
38 ;  primary,  is  it  necessary 
for  the  masses  ?  39  ;  A  Proj- 
ect of  a  Genercd  Plan  for  the 
Establishment  of  Popular 
Education,  60;  evil  effects 
of  compulsory,  63  ;  a  system 
of,  it  cannot  be  created,  it 
gi'ows,  94 ;  Education  and 
Culture,  105 ;  as  defined  in 
Germany,  105 ;  and  culture 


INDEX 


351 


confused,  108;  defined,  110, 
142,  152,  183;  impossible, 
111 ;  causes  of  force  in,  111; 
Progress  and  the  Dejinition  of 
Education,  152 ;  false  prin- 
ciples of,  186  ;  Are  the  Peas- 
ant Children  to  Learn  to  Write 
from  Us  :  Or,  Are  We  to  Learn 
from  the  Peasant  Children  ? 
191 ;  right,  consists  in  full 
liberty,  222;  The  School  at 
Ydsnaija  Polydna,  225 ;  of 
children,  viii.  416 ;  useless 
in  practical  life,  x.  15;  On 
Popular  Education,  xii.  251 ; 
wanted  by  the  masses,  299 ; 
intended  to  segregate  people, 
xvii.  84 ;  and  the  gov^ern- 
ment,  xxii.  529  ;  Thoughts  on 
Education  and  Instruction, 
xxiii.  359 ;  suggestion  the 
basis  of,  361 ;  must  begin 
with  the  good  life  of  the 
educators,  363  ;  must  be  free, 
366  ;  of  others  through  our- 
selves, 369  ;  wipes  out  indi- 
viduality, 373 ;  real,  378 ; 
essence  of,  education  of  self, 
515. 

Efim,  iii,  456  ;  —  Antonych, 
xviii.  199. 

Ego,  defined,  xvi.  351 ;  God 
living  in  man,  416. 

Eg6r,  x.  254  ;  —  INIikhfiylovich, 
iii.  391. 

Egoism,  defined  by  boy,  i.  245. 

Egotism  of  sentimental  trans- 
port, ii.  84. 

I'ilTel  Tower,  xix.  361,  xx.  50, 
xxiv.  27. 

Ekonomov,  v.  313. 

Elchingen,  vii.  308. 

Elections,  xi.  145. 

Elective  studies,  iv.  147. 


Eliot,  George,  xxii.  300,  xxiii. 
293. 

Elizabeth,  of  England,  xix. 
502. 

Elizabeth,  of  Russia,  xix.  504, 
XX.  321. 

Elizdr,  ii.  85. 

Embassy,  the  Father  has  sent 
me,  xix.  100. 

Emelydn,  xvii.  499. 

Emerson,  xxiii.  293,  462. 

Emma,  xxii.  35. 

Enactments,  see  Law. 

Enamourment  in  maiTiage, 
xviii.  470. 

End,  the,  of  the  human  race, 
xviii.  459,  473. 

Enemy,  love  thy,  xiv.  265; 
meaning  of,  xvi.  85. 

Engelhard,  xvii.  377. 

England,  and  popular  educa- 
tion, iv.  4 ;  and  the  Fiji 
Islands,  xvii.  113;  and  mili- 
tary service,  xx.  215 ;  and 
the  Venezuela  question,  469. 
See  also  xxiii.  184,  208. 

English,  at  Lucerne,  iii.  231 ; 
self-consciousness,  vii.  64; 
pretence,  xviii.  328 ;  and 
love  of  woman,  497 ;  litera- 
ture, criticism  of,  xxiii.  293. 
See  also  ix.  282,  x.  359,  xix. 
387,  xxii.  102,  xxiii.  144, 
and  Alison,  Allen,  Arnold, 
Bacon,  Balfour,  Bemis, 
Buckle,  Burke,  Burne-Jones, 
Butler,  Byron,  Caine,  Car- 
penter, Chamberlain,  Coler- 
idge, Cooper,  Cord,  Crom- 
well, Crookes,  Daily  Chroni- 
cle, Dalmas,  Darwin,  Dickens, 
Dove,  Dymond,  Kliot,  Eliza- 
beth, Gibbon,  Gladstone,  Gor- 
don,   Grote,    Haggard,    Ho- 


352 


INDEX 


g«Hh,  Home,  Hull,  Hume, 
liutcheson,  Huxley,  Ker, 
Kiesewetter,  Kingsley,  Moz- 
ley,  Musser,  Newton,  Ogilvie, 
Oweu,  Palraerston,  Redder, 
Reid,  Rhodes,  Robinson, 
Salisbury,  Shaftesbury, 
Shakespeare,  Sisley,  Spence, 
Spencer,  Sterne,  Stevens, 
Thackeray,  Tyndal,  Wilde, 
Wyclif. 

Enghien,  Duke  d',  v.  15. 

Enlightenment,  Fruits  of  En- 
lightenment, xviii.  191;  and 
culture  defined,  xxiii.  362. 

Enslavement,  history  of,  xvii. 
132 ;  physical,  132 ;  by  star- 
vation, 133;  by  means  of 
money,  138 ;  by  depriving 
men  of  land,  143  ;  by  means 
of  tribute,  144.  See  also 
Slavery. 

Epictetus,  xvii.  225,  xix.  528, 
XX.  503. 

Epicm'eanism,  xiii.  41,  xxii. 
196. 

Epifdn,  ii.  34. 

Epifdnov,  see  Anna  Dmitrievna, 
Avdotya  "Vasilevna. 

Epilepsy,  due  to  wrong  sexual 
relations,  xviii.  350. 

Epistles  not  essential  to  Chris- 
tianity, xiv.  17. 

Equality,  before  the  law,  iii. 
257;  between  teacher  and 
pupil,  iv.  183  ;  of  the  sexes, 
xviii.  490;  of  man  and 
woman,  490,  495  ;  of  man 
fundamental  property  of  re- 
ligion, xxiv.  86. 

Erasmus,  xix.  138. 

Erem6evna,  xxiii.  5. 

Er^mkin,  iii.  153. 

Ergushdv,  ii.  121. 


Ermdk  Timof^ich,  xii.  124. 
Ermll,  iii.  414  ;  x.  22. 
Ermilin,  iv.  197;   Prokh6r,  x. 
31. 

Ermil6v,  ii.  21. 

Ermishin,  Matvy6y,  viii.  372. 

Ermolov,  ii.  261;  vii.  55. 

Eroshka,  ii.  115,  170. 

Erotic  mania  in  art,  xxii.  212. 

Ersh6v,  iv.  53,  263;  A.  I., 
xxiii.  33. 

Esperanto,  xxiii.  368. 

Essenes,  xix.  523. 

Eternal  law,  the,  xiv.  223. 

Ethics,  disappeared  in  our 
pseudo  -  Christian  society, 
xvi.  103.     See  also  Morality. 

Etienne,  i.  329. 

Eucharist,  the  sacrament  of 
the,  xiii.  382. 

Eulampia,  xix.  29. 

Eunuchs,  xviii.  455. 

Euripides,  xxii.  253. 

Evil,  in  relation  to  God  and 
man,  xiv.  191 ;  not  destroyed 
by  evil,  316 ;  what  it  is  for, 
xix.  57;  words,  191 ;  defined, 
XX.  194;  there  can  be  no 
definition  of,  196 ;  cannot 
correct  evil,  xxii.  122. 

Evolution,  and  the  church 
creed,  xvii.  236  ;  economic, 
criticized,  xxiv.  15.  See  also 
Darwinism. 

Evstign6ich,  i.  490. 

Evstilfevich,  vii.  259. 

Evtush^vski,  xii.  252. 

Examinations,  baneful,  iv.  83  ; 
injurious,  88 ;  lead  to  cram- 
ming and  cheating,  133 ;  a 
farce,  134,  295. 

Excommunication,  Answer  to 
the  Decree  of  the  Synod,  xxiii. 
227. 


INDEX 


OOO 


Experience,    the    only   method 

in  education,  xii.  288. 
Exploitation,  see  Labour. 

Fables  for  Children,  xii.  3. 

Fabvier,  vii.  301. 

Factories,  produce  mainly  for 
women,  xviii.  336 ;  ex- 
plained, xxiii.  520. 

Fadchenko,  v.  439. 

Fady^ev,  xii.  242. 

Faith,  and  death,  i.  136 ;  in 
God  (Pierre's),  viii.  300; 
lack  of  (Levin's),  x.  311 ;  re- 
turning (Levin's),  xi.  362 ; 
defection  from,  how  origi- 
nated, xiii.  4 ;  in  the  mean- 
ing of  poetry  and  in  progress 
lost  by  Tolstoy,  10  ;  and  the 
masses,  49,  59 ;  irrational 
knowledge,  53 ;  alone  gives 
the  answer  to  the  question 
of  life,  54 ;  stability  of,  88 ; 
church  conception  of,  361 ; 
separated  from  works,  365 ; 
reduced  by  the  church  to 
trust  and  obedience,  366 ; 
cannot  be  separated  from 
works,  369  ;  defined,  xiv.  12  ; 
xvi.  134;  xxiii.  11;  based 
on  the  knowledge  of  our  re- 
lation to  God,  XV.  94 ;  the 
teaching  concerning  life  the 
foundation  of,  xvi.  140 ; 
the  knowledge  of  the  truth, 
147 ;  what  it  consists  in, 
207;  three  kinds  of,  zvii. 
218 ;  422 ;  xix.  79 ;  can- 
not be  foisted  upon  any 
one,  xxiii.  12,  deception  of, 
15 ;  Christian  confession  of, 
463 ;  disagreement  of,  not 
material,  509  ;  defined,  xxiv. 
93  J    distortion  of,  95 ;    and 


religion,  95  ;  the  men  of  our 
time  have  no,  96.  See  also 
Religion. 

Family,  love  of,  i.  360,  ii.  70, 
viii.  388 ;  life,  iii.  283  ;  quar- 
rels, X.  386  ;  happiness,  con- 
dition of,  xiv.  160;  relations, 
xix.  178. 

Famine,  Letters  on  the  Famine, 
xix.  201 ;  Famine  or  No 
Famine  ?  xxiii.  503  ;  defined, 
509;  cause  of,  511. 

Fan^rin,  see  Fondrin. 

Farming  on  shares,  x.  162. 

Farrar,  xiv.  18,  xx.  42,  46. 

Fasting,  xiv.  272 ;  value  of, 
xix.  121 ;  first  condition  of 
abstinence,  392 ;  an  indis- 
pensable condition  of  a  good 
life,  398.  See  also  Absti- 
nence. 

Fatalism,  i.  192. 

Father,  perfect  as  the,  xvi. 
474. 

F^derson,  ii.  400. 

F6deshov,  v.  190. 

Fedka,  iv.  192 ;  287 ;  xxii.  38. 

Fedor,  iv.  238;  iii.  269; 
(Prince),  viii.  411;  xi.  374; 
—  Ivdnovich,  iii.  166  ;  — 
Ivdnych,  xxviii.  189  ;  —  Fi- 
lippych,  iii.  54  ;  —  Petrovich, 
xviii.  64  ;  —  Vasilevichj 
xviii.  3. 

Fedorov,  xii.  198  ;  xxi.  456. 

Fedosya,  xxi.  159. 

Fedosyushka,  vi.  336. 

Fedot,  X.  138. 

Fedotka,  iii.  89. 

Fedotov,  V.  226;  Ivjln,  xii. 
229. 

F^dya,  xxi.  311. 

Feeding  with  the  five  loaves 
explained,  xvi.  175. 


354 


INDEX 


Feeling,  improbability  in  mat- 
ters of,  a  token  of  truth,  i. 

223,  236. 
F6nelon,  xx.  73. 
Feofan,  iv.  397. 
Feoktlst,  vi.  16. 
Ferapontov,  vii.  161. 
Ferdinand,  Archduke,  v.  19.5. 
Ferri,    Enrico,    xx.    128,    xxi. 

457. 
F^rtinhof,  ix.  181. 
Fet,  xxiii.  293,  xxiv.  197. 
Feuerbach,  iv.  132,  xxii.  361. 
Feuillet,  xix.  377. 
Feval,  i.  ioO. 
Ficlite,    iv.    8,   viii.   342,    xvii. 

223,  xxii.  158,  361. 
Field's    music,    i.  41,    228,  vi. 

397. 
Fi^rens-Gevaert,  xxii.  167. 
Figner,  viii.  152. 
Fig-tree,  parable    of    the,   xiv. 

376. 
Fiji     Islands,    xvii.     Ill,    xx. 

176. 
Filaret,  xiii.  94,  xvi.  181,  xvii. 

251,  xviii.  482. 
Fillpp,  vi.  55  ;  xxi.  142. 
Findshka,  xxi.  166. 
Finns,  xxiii.  148,  174. 
Finog^n,  x.  140. 
Fischhucli  criticized,  iv.  47. 
Flamande,  la  belle,  i.  111. 
Flaubert,  xx.  506. 
Fl^rov,  xi.  157. 
Flogging,  in  the  army,  v.  284, 

Shame!    xxiii.  95;  in  prison, 

xxi.  233,  xxii.  127. 
Foka,  i.  19;  vi.  51. 
Fokdnych,  xi.  375. 
Fokanvcliev,  iv.  197. 
Fomich,  x.  10. 
Fomin,  ix.  27. 
Foniiislikin,  ii.  121. 


Fonflrin,      Anatoli     Petrdvich, 
xxi.  130. 

Food,  of  life,  xiv.  370 ;  rich, 
leads  to  lust,  xviii.  331. 

Foreigners  in  the  Russian 
army,  v.  425. 

Forgiveness,  the  joy  of  asking, 
iii.  318  ;  vii.  547  ;  Karatilev's, 
viii.  223 ;  illustrative  story, 
God  Sees  the  Truth,  But  Does 
Not  Tell,  xii.  72  ;  need  of  un- 
bounded, illustrative  story, 
Neglect  the  Fire  and  You  Can- 
not Put  It  Out,  375  ;  xix.  161  ; 
unlimited,  xxii.  123 ;  xxiii. 
379. 

Fornication,  lust  of,  ruins 
man's  good,  xvi.  210 ;  and 
mutilation  equally  bad,  xviii. 
458. 

Fornicator  defined,  xviii.  445. 

Forum,  xx.  42. 

Foti,  viii.  342. 

Fouch^,  vii.  308. 

Fox,  XX.  6. 

France,  and  popular  education, 
iv.  4  ;  schools  of,  22  -,  el  pas- 
sim. 

Franchuk,  ii.  426. 

Francis,  Emperor,  v.  246. 

Francis  d'Assisi,  see  Assisi ; 
de  Lobes,  see  Lobes. 

Franco-Russian  Alliance,  cele- 
bration, XX.  383 ;  epidemic, 
396  ;  xxiii.  498. 

Free     Thought,     of     Bulgaria, 
xxiii.  486. 

Frederick,  xvii.  221. 

Freedom,  affecting  youth,  i. 
281  ;  feeling  of  personal,  ii. 
06  ;  of  teaching  and  learning, 
iv.  29,  149;  in  education, 
221  ;  of  the  will,  vii.  6,  viii. 
467  ;    the   only  criterion    of 


INDEX 


355 


education,  xii.  2SS ;  of  the 
will  meaningless,  xvi.  lOi: 
and  the  Christian  teaching, 
XX.  21G  ;  of  recognition  of 
the  truth,  3G0 ;  of  study, 
xxiii.    'Mji). 

Freemasonry,  initiation  in,  vi. 
108 ;  explained,  IGo ;  the 
teaching  of  Christianity,  164. 

French,  characterization  of  the, 
i.  210,  iv.  23  ;  novels,  reading 
of,  i.  385  ;  pension,  iii.  235  ; 
self-consciousness  of  the,  vii. 
64  ;  conception  of  love,  528  ; 
love  of  women,  xviii.  497 ; 
literature  ci-iticized,  xxii. 
214.  See  also  iii.  369,  xii. 
195,  xxi.  354,  and  Aniiel, 
Andr^,  Angele,  Arago,  Bat- 
teux,  Baudelaire,  Bazin, 
Beaumarchais,  B  e  a  u  s  s  e  t, 
Beile,  Belliard,  Bernard,  Ber- 
lioz, Bertet,  Berthe,  Berthier, 
Berthelot,  Bessieres,  Bichat, 
Bonaparte,  Bosse,  Boulanger, 
Bourbon,  Bourier,  Bourget, 
Bourienne,  Breton,  Broussier, 
Calvin,  Camji,  Capelle,  Car- 
not,  Castries,  Chalm4,  Char- 
cot, Charles,  Charmeur, 
Chateaubriand,  Ch^nier, 

Cherbuliez,  Chevalier,  Che- 
vet,  Claparede,  Claretie, 
Compans,  Comte,  Constant, 
Copp^e,  Coster,  Coulain- 
court.  Cousin,  D'Alembert, 
Daudet,  Davout,  Debras,  De- 
fourny,  Delaroche,  Desalles, 
Descartes,  Dessaix,  Diderot, 
Donon,  Douraic,  Doussot,  Due 
de  Lille,  Dufar,  Dumas,  Du- 
puis,  Duport,  Enghien,  Fab- 
vier,  F6nelon,  Feuillet,  Feval, 
Fi6rens-Gevaert,      Flaubert, 


Fouch^,      Gauhh,     Gautier, 

Georges,  Gerome,  (Jolilst 
d'Aviella,  Gourmont,  Grillin, 
Guizot,  Guyau,  Iliuschists, 
Hugo,  Jaures,  Jouffroy, 
Julien,  Julner,  Karr,  Kock, 
Kriidner,  Lamartine,  Lan- 
dau, Langeron,  Lannes,  Lar- 
rey,  Latour,  l^auriston,  La- 
visse,  Lecoute  de  Lisle, 
Lelorme,  Lemarrois,  Lepage, 
Leroy,  L^veque,  L'llerniite, 
Linon,  Lulli,  Macaire,  Mor- 
and,  Moreas,  Moreau,  Morel, 
]\Iorio,  Morion,  Morleinart, 
]\Iortier,  Mouton,  JNIurat, 
]\Iusset,  Napoleon,  Ney, 
Oudinot,  Pascal,  Bassy,  Pelis- 
sier,  Pictet,  Pissaro,  Pres- 
sens6.  Provost,  Proudhon, 
Puvis  de  Chavannes,  l\am- 
ball,  Ilameau,  Ravaisson, 
Rapi~>,  Begnier,  Renan,  Re- 
noir, Reville,  Revue  des  Re- 
vues, Richet,  Robespierre, 
Rod,  Rostand,  Rousseau, 
St.  Jerome,  St.  Pierre,  Sar 
Peladau,  Savary,  Sel)astiani, 
S^gur,  Sorbier,  Stael,  Sue, 
Sully  Prud'liomme,  Tainc, 
Talleyrand,  Tarde,  Thiers, 
Turenne,  Verlaine,  Verne, 
Villiers,  Yinet,  Vogii^,  Vol- 
taire. 

Friant,  vii.  308. 

Friendship,  i.  247;  with 
women,  xviii.  454. 

Fritz,  iv.  407. 

Frobel,  iv.  10. 

Frost,  i.  426. 

Fuks,  xii.  205. 

Fulfilment,  the,  of  the  law,  xiv. 
303. 

Funcke,  v.  6. 


356 


INDEX 


GXgin,  xi.  211. 

Galileo,  xvi.  44,  xvii.  282. 

G^sin,  ii.  338;  ix.  305. 

Gamaliel,  xxiii.  416. 

Gambling,  i.  304,  ili.  81,  170; 
cause  of  its  attractiveness, 
xvii.  163. 

Games,  children's,  i.  33 ;  Cul- 
tural value  of,  iv.  145. 

Garofalo,  xxi.  427. 

Garrison,  William  Lloyd,  and 
non-resistance,  xx.  6,  483, 
xxiii.  123,  462. 

Garrison,  son,  xx.  12. 

Garshiu,  xx.  509,  xxi.  231. 

Gasha,  see  Agafya  Mikhdy- 
lovna. 

Gaulois,  xxiii.  43. 

Gauthier,  xi.  144. 

Gautier,  Th^ophile,  xxii.  214. 

Gavrilo,  i.  33  ;  v.  392  ;  vi,  511 ; 
xii.  37G. 

Gavrllov,  ii.  201. 

Gavrilovna,  xii.  190. 

Gavryukha,  iv.  253. 

Gay  (Ge),  xxii.  301,  xxiii.  27, 
434. 

Genius  defined,  viii.  346. 

Geography,  teaching  of,  iv. 
330  ;  uselessness  of,  336. 

George,  Henry,  xvii.  157,  xxi. 
338,  461,  xxiii.  184;  Two 
Letters  on  Henry  George,  396  ; 
xxiv.  28 ;  his  theory  ex- 
plained, 141. 

Georges,  vi.  478. 

Gerard,  vii.  309. 

Gerasim,  xviii.  36. 

German,  sound  method,  iv.  43  ; 
teacher  criticized,  47  ;  defini- 
tion of  education  and  instruc- 
tion, 105;  as  conceived  by 
peasant  children,  323  ;  land- 
lord, V.  205 ;    self-conscious- 


ness of  the,  vii.  64 ;  tactlca 
criticized,viii.l03 ; pedagogy, 
xii.  255,  275 ;  children  ia 
pedagogics,  259  ;  schools  and 
compulsion,  297 ;  love  of 
women,  xviii.  497.  See  also 
ii.  441,  iv.  328,  v.  112,  445, 
469,  vi.  138,  vii.  293,  viii. 
184,  ix.  22,  196,  x.  151,  359, 
xi.  77, 124,  xii.  230,  xx.  250, 
xxi.  293,  299,  365,  xxiii.  150, 
160,  and  Albert,  Alfons 
Kdrlych,  Arnold,  Auersperg, 
Bach,  Baden.  Barclay,  Bebel, 
Beethoven,  Bergmann,  Bock- 
lin,  Biichner,  Burgmiiner, 
Caprivi,  Defregger,  Diester- 
weg,  Dimmler,  Dorpat, 
Duncker,  Eduard  Ivdnovich, 
Ferdinand,  Feuerbach, 
Fichte,  Fischbuck,  Frederick, 
Fritz,  Frobel,  Frost,  Funcke, 
Gossner,  G5tlie,  IlardeTiberg, 
Hartmann,  Hangwitz,  Haydn, 
Hebel,  Hegel,  Heine,  Helm- 
holtz,  Herbart,  Herder,  Ho- 
henlohe,  Humboldt,  Johann, 
Jungmann,  Kalkbrenner, 
Kant,  Karl,  Kaulbach,  Kep- 
ler, Kirchnianii,  ivlausewitz, 
Klinger,  Knaust,  Kraft, 
Krause,  Kraut,  Kriegsmut, 
Krupp,  Lassale,  Lessing, 
Lichtenfels,  Lichtenstein, 
Liszt,  Luther,  Mack,  Marx, 
Mendelssohn,  Metternich, 
Moleschott,  Moltke,  Momm- 
sen,  Mozart,  Mllller,  Mu- 
ther,  Nietzsche,  Nostitz,  Pes- 
talozzi,  Pfuel,  Polenz,  Reuss, 
Rosenkampf,  Rosenkranz, 
Ruge,  Schasler,  Schelling, 
Schiller,  Schlegel,  Schleier- 
niacher,    Schmidt,    Schmitt, 


INDEX 


857 


Schnasse,  Schneider,  Scho- 
penliauer,  Schuliert,  Schiiltz, 
Scliulz,  Schwartz,  Schwarz, 
Solger,  Sonutag,  Stein,  Stuck, 
Toll,  Vischer,  Vogel,  Volkelt, 
Wagner,  Walter,  Weber, 
Weisse,  Weyrother,  William 
II.,  Winkelmann,  Winkler, 
Wintzingerode,  Wittgen- 
stein, Wolzogen,  Wurst. 

Germany,  and  popular  educa- 
tion, iv.  3  ;  schools  of,  12,  '22  ; 
failure  of  object  lessons  in, 
52  ;  and  France,  xx.  414. 

G6r6me,  xxii.  oUl. 

Gervais,  vi.  296. 

Gibbon,  viii.  430. 

Girchik,  ii.  162,  vi.  3,53. 

Gir6y-khan,  ii.  174. 

Gladstone,  xx.  225,  xxii.  104, 
xxiii.  156. 

Glinka,  vii.  133. 

Glodwin,  Jesse,  xxiii.  133. 

Glorification,  xiii.  411. 

Gluttony,  xix.  392.  See  also 
Abstinence,  Intemperance. 

Gly6bov,  iv.  142,  203. 

Gnilokishkin,  ii.  511. 

GnyMich,  iv.  271. 

Goblet  d'Alviella,  xxiv.  83. 

God,  his  people,  vi.  168 ;  God 
Sees  the  Truth,  told  by  Kara- 
tiiev  (see  Forgiveness),  viii. 
223;  life  is,  228;  alone  de- 
termines the  direction  of  the 
movement  of  humanity,  457  ; 
is  life,  xiii.  66 ;  has  no  special 
relation  to  man,  101;  one 
and  three,  115;  of  the  Old 
Testament,  121 ;  indivisible, 
151;  is  spirit,  xiv.  138;  de- 
fined, 175  ;  the  new  teaching 
about,  303  ;  that  after  which 
I  strive,  xvi.  409;  alone  can 


be  loved  as  is  proper,  409  ; 
known  throngli  complete  de- 
pendence on  him,  410  ;  the 
source  of  light,  410;  the 
beginning  of  beginnings,41 1 ; 
unlimited,  414  ;  the  whole 
body,  414;  there  is  no,  the 
creator,  414;  in  man,  415; 
not  bad,  415;  thought  of, 
helps  us  to  gather  strength, 
415  ;  cause  of  happiness,  416  ; 
not  to  be  approached  on 
purpose,  419;  is  one,  423; 
is  the  acknowledgment  of 
a  higher  meaning  of  life, 
425 ;  does  his  work  through 
us,  426  ;  cause  of  all  knowl- 
edge, 426  ;  two  Gods,  426  : 
meaning  of  love  of,  427 ; 
wishes  one  and  the  same, 
427 ;  is  felt,  427  ;  freeing 
himself,  428;  manifested  as 
a  desire  for  good,  428 ;  infi- 
nite, 429  ;  from,  to,  430  ;  to 
feel,  431  ;  and  the  beloved 
woman,  443 ;  his  will,  450 ; 
his  power  acting  in  me,  480; 
is  truth,  xvii.  384 ;  to  live 
like,  illustrative  parable. 
Three  Sons,  xvii.  493;  his 
work  and  the  watchmaker, 
xix.  90;  his  aid,  103;  his 
will,  136;  and  metaphysics, 
148  ;  reaps  the  good  in  men, 
167;  seeking,  xx.  503;  God 
Sees  the  Truth,  xxii.  303 ; 
cognized  in  oneself,  371  ; 
cognized  outside  oneself,  371 ; 
his  law  salvation  from  ca- 
lamities, xxiii.  244  ;  his  law. 
Do  unto  others,  etc.,  244 ; 
defined,  510;  the  creator,  511 ; 
union  with,  528. 
G6gol,  iv.   171,  247,  262,  267, 


358 


INDEX 


271,    276,    xxii.    301,    xxiv. 
21. 

Golenishcbev,  x.  341. 

Golitsyn,  v.  22 ;  Natdlya,  xi. 
76. 

Golovln,  Ilyd  Efimovich,  xviii. 
14;  Ivdii  Ilich,  3;  Pras- 
kovya  Fedoroviia,  3. 

Golubtsov,  xi.  336,  341. 

Goluchowski,  vi.  341. 

Good,  doing,  the  only  happi- 
ness, vi.  159  ;  the  measure  of, 
xiv.  428 ;  to  live  for  the,  xvi. 
207  ;  it  is  impossible  to  be, 
just  a  little,  xvii.  87  ;  to  be 
found  only  in  the  brother- 
hood of  men,  xxii.  320. 

Goodness,  defined,  iv.  220,  xxii. 
199  ;  and  beauty,  what  unites 
men,  xvii.  420. 

Gordon,  xvii.  118. 

Gordy6y,  iv.  306. 

Gospel,  loved  by  peasants,  iv. 
243,  259;  asked  for  by 
Audrey,  vii.  543 ;  the,  and 
war,  xi.  398  ;  The  Four  Gos- 
pels Harmonized  and  Trans- 
lated, xiv.  3  ;  how  composed, 
14;  the  four  —  s  only  essential 
part  of  Christianity,  16  ;  of 
John  not  separated  froin  the 
rest,  17  ;  the  word  explained, 
19  ;  the  aim  of  the,  22 ;  the 
value  of  the,  xv.  361 ;  its 
composition,  362  ;  Short  Ex- 
position of  the  Gospel,  367 ; 
contained  in  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  369  ;  intelligible  only 
without  interpretation,  xvi. 
11 ;  must  not  be  interpreted, 
xvii.  363 ;  parables  highest 
art,  xxii.  232 ;  How  to  Read 
the  Gospel  arid  What  Is  Its 
Essence  ?  481. 


Gossner,  viii.  406. 

Gothe,  iv.  198,  201,  xv.  359, 
xvi.  379,  xxii.  154,  175,  228, 
241,  252,  307. 

Gourmont,  Ren6  de,  xxii. 
212. 

Government,  not  Christian,  xix. 
499  ;  not  to  be  obeyed,  501 ; 
not  necessary,  xx.  185;  uses 
four  means  for  influencing 
men,  199  ;  by  intimidation, 
199;  by  bribery,  200;  by 
hypnotization,  200;  by  mili- 
tary service,  202 ;  must  al- 
ways use  power,  203 ;  men 
in  the,  stand  below  the  aver- 
age of  culture,  271  ;  main- 
tained through  shifting  of 
responsibilities,  324 ;  main- 
tained by  public  opinion,  445; 
interference  with  aid  to  the 
hungry,  xxii.  519  ;  the  de- 
struction of  the,  548  ;  Patriot- 
ism and  Government,  xxiii. 
143 ;  provokes  hostilities, 
154  ;  an  organization  of  op- 
pression, 155;  abolished 
through  abolition  of  patriot- 
ism, 157;  result  of  abolition 
of,  162  ;  cannot  be  destroyed 
by  force,  186  ;  non-participa- 
tion in  the,  410  ;  indictments 
against  the,  521 ;  522;  crimes, 
525;  based  on  deceit,  538; 
organized  violence,  xxiv.  50; 
life  goes  on  without  it,  52 ; 
to  be  destroyed,  56 ;  differ- 
ence between  it  and  con- 
querors, 58  ;  how  to  be  des- 
troyed, 61  ;  participation 
in,  a  crime,  64 ;  based  on 
violence,  125.  See  also  Pa- 
triotism, State. 

Grab^ts,  xxii.  46. 


INDEX 


359 


Grace,  theological  doctrine  of, 

xiii.  343. 
Grammar,  instruction,  iv.  279  ; 

uselessness  of,  286. 
Grap,    father,    i.    319;    Illnka, 

85. 
Grechul^vich,  xiv.  18. 
Greed,  illustrative  legend,  Hoio 

Much    Land    a    Man    Needs, 

xvi.  452. 
Greek,  language  why  studied, 

iv.  6  ;  useless,  124  ;  art,  xxii. 

187  ;  did  not  know  the  good 

apart  from  beauty,  194  ;  con- 
ception of  religion,  xxiv.  S3. 

See    also    Aristotle,    Epicte- 

tus,    Epicureanism,    Hesiod, 

Homer,  Plato. 
Gref,  xviii.  14. 
Gr^kov,  viii.  109. 
Griffin,  xxii.  224. 
Grigori,  iii.  286; — Tvanovich, 

xii.      237  ;  —  Mikhaylovich, 

xviii.  189. 
Grin^vich,      Mikhail      Stanis- 

Idvich,  ix.  27. 
Grisha,    i.     21 ;     ix.    14 ;     xi. 

28. 
Grishin,  iv.  297  ;  xxi.  347. 
Grlshka,  vi.  7  ;  xix.  189. 
Gritska,  x.  112. 
Grossmann,  xviii.  188. 
Grote,  xix.  204. 
Griibe,  iv.  334,  339,  xii.  267. 
Gruzinski,  vii.  .5.52. 
Guilt  a  deception,  xv.  149. 
Guizot,  xxiii.  301. 
Gur6vich,  xxi.  391. 
Giirin,  ix.  31. 
Gurka,  ii.  117. 
Guskov,  iii.  5. 
Gustdv  Ivdnovich,  iv.  323. 
Guyau,    and     costumer's     art, 

xziii.  145,  166. 


Haggarh,  "Rider,  xxiii.  293. 

Hague  Conference,  xxiii.  152, 
439.     See  also  Ai'bitratiou. 

Hannah,  xi.  290. 

Hannele,  xxii.  242. 

Happiness,  boy's  idea  of,  i. 
219;  causeless,  ii.  195;  de- 
fined, 196  ;  consists  in  self- 
renunciation,  233,  238 ;  of 
the  lowly,  iii.  260 ;  not  in 
wealth,  illustrative  story, 
Ilyds,  xii.  472  ;  highest,  93. 

Hardenberg,  v.  6. 

Harijites,  xxiii.  316. 

Harmonization  of  the  gospels 
explained,  xv.  377.  See  also 
Gospel. 

Harmony,  at  the  base  of  beauty, 
truth,  goodness,  iv.  220 ; 
child's  age  the  prototype  of, 
221. 

Hartmann,  xvi.  323,  348,  xvii. 
303,  xviii.  342,  xix.  525,  xxii. 
163. 

Hatred,  in  a  child,  i.  210. 

Haugwitz,  V.  6. 

Haydn,  xxii.  278,  303, 

Healing  on  the  Sabbath,  xiv. 
118. 

Health  a  condition  of  happi- 
ness, xvi.  162. 

Hebel,  iv.  13. 

Hebrew,  why  studied,  iv.  6. 

Hegel,  iv.  8,  153,  xi.  365,  xvii. 
225,  xix.  525,  xxi.  413,  xxii. 
158. 

Hegelianism,  in  Russia,  xvii. 
226. 

Heine,  xxii.  211. 

Helen,  xix.  36. 

H^lene,  v.  10. 

Helmholtz,  xvi.  249,  xx.  163. 

Hemsterhuis,  xxii.  157. 

Henry  IV.,  xxiii.  169. 


360 


INDEX 


Herbart,  xxu.  162. 

Herder,  vi.  165,  xxii.  155. 

Heredity,  xxi.  107. 

Heresy,  in,  alone  there  was  true 
motion,  xx.  66. 

Hermits,  The  Three  Hermits, 
xii.  363. 

Herodians,  xv.  197,  205. 

Herrnhuters,  xx.  4,  xxiii.  123. 

Herron,  G.,  xx.  483. 

Herzen,  iv.  132,  xvii.  227,  xix, 
382,  XX.  199,  290,  368. 

Hesiod,  xxii.  291. 

Hidden  treasure,  parable  of  the, 
xiv.  198. 

Higginson,  xx.  483. 

High  priests  plotting,  xv. 
250. 

Hillel,  xxiii.  245. 

Hindoo,  and  Tolstoy,  xxiii. 
327  ;  fables,  xii.  19. 

Hinschists,  xx.  236. 

History,  of  pedagogy,  its  aim, 
iv.  10  ;  historical  view  criti- 
cized, iv.  153;  teaching  of , 
315  ;  to  be  taught  from  the 
end,  321 ;  uselessness  of, 
334  ;  criticized,  vii.  377,  viii. 
241,  341,  429;  begins  with 
conquests,  xvii.  110;  real, 
xix.  137. 

Hogarth,  xxii.  155. 

Hohenlohe,  v.  426. 

Holy  Ghost,  sectarians,  xv.  380. 
See  also  Blasphemy. 

Home,  xxii.  155 ;  its  influence 
superior  to  school,  iv.  14. 

Homer,  xvii.  280,  282,  xxii. 
232,  291. 

Hottentots  musical,  xviii.  372. 

Honesty,  conception  of,  by  the 
peasants     and     the     upper 
classes,  iv.  212. 
Honeymoon,     oppressive,     un- 


natural, X.  377 ;  a  farce,  xviii. 
340  ;  is  debauchery,  344. 

Honour,  idea  of,  in  the  army, 
V.  215. 

Horror,  of  war  (Ol^nin's),  ii. 
301  ;  of  the  military  hospital, 
315,  357. 

Horse,  Linen  Measurer,  iv.  363 ; 
Frou-frou,  ix.  282;  Yellow- 
muzzle,  xix.  426. 

House  built  upon  the  rock, 
parable  of  the,  xiv.  291. 

Hugo,  Victor,  xvii.  282,  xx. 
166,  xxii.  221,  228,  300,  321, 
xxiii.  133. 

Hull,  ix.  15. 

Humaneness  (Karatdev's),  viii. 
65. 

Humanitas,  xxiii.  337. 

Humaiiits  Nouvelle,  xxiii.  119, 

Hiimanity  defined,  xx.  108. 

Humbert,  on  the  death  of. 
Thou  Shalt  Not  Kill,  xxiii. 
169. 

Humboldt,  xxii.  158. 

Hume,  xiii.  96,  xxiv.  114. 

Humour,  soldier,  ii.  492^ 

Hunting,  i.  25 ;  pheasants,  ii. 
118,  189;  boars,  124;  the 
stag,  192,  vi.  348  ;  snipes,  xi. 
43,  253  ;  boar,  xii.  53  ;  pheas- 
ants, 56 ;  bear,  82. 

Huss,  xvi.  394,  xx.  71,  xxii. 
191. 

Hutcheson,  xxii.  155. 

Huxley,  xix.  537. 

Huysmans,  xxii.  212,  228,  279. 

Hypnotization,  v.  401 ;  illustra- 
tive fairy  tale.  Labourer 
Emelydn  and  the  Empty  Drum, 
xvii.  499 ;  practised  by  the 
government,  xx.  200  ;  of  the 
military,  333,  xxi.  109,  xxiii. 
360.     See  also  Suggestion. 


IXDEX 


361 


Hypocrisy,  in  schools,  iv.  13 ; 
of  science  has  taken  place 
that  of  religion,  xx.  3i5 ;  of 
our  times,  475. 

Ibsen,  xxii.  253,  309,  xxiii. 
290. 

Ideal,  of  life,  i.  342;  our,  be- 
hind us,  not  before  us,  iv. 
220 ;  the,  defined,  xviii. 
425,  xxiii.  58;  Christian, 
xviii.  429,  xx.  1 04  ;  accom- 
plished in  proportion  as  men 
are  freed  from  violence, 
xxiv.  69. 

Ideas,  obsolete,  xxiii.  145. 

Idleness  to  be  avoided,  xvi. 
212. 

Idolatry  of  the  Orthodox 
Chm-ch,   XX.  79. 

Igndshka,  iii.  49. 

Igndt,  ii.  56 ;  iii.  414 ;  vii. 
475. 

Ignatev,  ii.  375. 

Ignati  Nikiforovich,  see  Rogo- 
zhinski. 

Ignorance,  power  of,  The  Power 
of  Darkness,  xviii.  83. 

Ikonin,  285. 

Ilagin,  vi.  353. 

Iliad,  effect  of  the,  on  peasant 
children,  iv.  271. 

Ilin,  iii.  113;  vii.  76;  F.  S., 
xviii.  25. 

Ilinka,  see  Grap. 

Ilya,  ii.  56  ;  iii.  414  ;  —  Andr6- 
evich,  V.  78;  —  Mos^ich,  ii. 
147  ;  _  Vasilevich,  110. 

Ilyds,  xii.  472. 

Uyiishka,  iii.  135 ;  vi.  17. 

Image  worship,  xiii.  415. 

Immortality  of  life,  xvi.  366. 

Impotent  man  healed,  xiv. 
320. 


Incontinence,  monstrosity  of 
life  due  to,  xviii.  488. 

Indians,  xx.  176. 

Indulgences,  xiii.  393. 

Industrial  activity  harmful, 
xvii.  213. 

Infallibility,  of  the  church  a 
mistake,  xiv.  14;  of  the 
hierarchy,  xiii.  336,  xx.  60. 

Ingersoll,  xx.  50. 

Instinct  defined,  xxiv.  80. 

Instruction,  difference  of,  in 
higher  and  lower  schools,  iv. 
78 ;  as  defined  in  Germany, 
105.  See  also  Culture,  Edu- 
cation. 

Insubmission,  advantages  of, 
XX.  188. 

Intemperance,  struggle  against, 
made  hard,  xix.  380 ;  in 
authors,  382.  See  also  In- 
toxication. 

Interpretation,  of  Scripture  by 
individuals  imperative,   xiv. 

10  ;  by  church  unintelligible, 

11  ;  false,  of  the  Gospels,  xv. 
376 ;  of  Gospels  to  be 
avoided,  xxii.  483. 

Intoxicants,  injurious  effect  of, 
xxiii.  83. 

Intoxication,  first,  i.  309  ;  Tol- 
stoy's, 426  ;  The  Holiday  of 
Enlightenment  of  the  12th  of 
January,  xvii.  429;  How  tike 
Devil  Redeemed  the  Crust  of 
Bread,  xvii.  439  ;  Why  Peo- 
ple Become  Intoxicated,  xix. 
339  ;  crimes  committed 
under,  344  ;  due  to  drown- 
ing of  conscience,  346  ;  from 
smoking,  348 ;  due  to  wish 
to  drown  conscience,  357 ; 
senselessness  of  life  chiefly 
due  to,  360  \  of  power  cause 


362 


INDEX 


of  governmental  crimes,  xx. 
328  ;  a  sin,  xxiii.  80  ;  God  or 
Mammon,  S3  ;  The  First  Dis- 
tiller, xxiv.  171. 

lohel,  vi.  67. 

Ipdtka,  vi.  17. 

Ippolit,  V.  10. 

Irish,  xxiii.  148. 

Iron  law,  absurdity  of  the, 
xvii.  123 ;  of  labour  wage, 
xxiv.  38. 

Irritation  in  marital  relation  to 
be  avoided,  xviii.  481. 

Irt6nev,  NikoUy,  i.  261 ;  Niko- 
lenka,  xxi.  330,  4.59. 

Isaiah,  xvi.  248,  xvii.  280. 

Isdy,  xix.  440. 

Ishlmova,  iv.  316. 

Italian,  iii.  235,  370;  self- 
consciousness,  vii.  64.  See 
also  Assisi,  Boccaccio,  Bruno, 
Dante,  Ferri,  Galileo,  Garo- 
falo,  Humbert,  Lonibroso, 
Michelangelo,  Pellico,  Ra- 
phael, Vinci. 

Ivd,n,  ii.  4;  iii.  56;  x.  161;  xi. 
386;  xii.  103;  481;  xviii. 
484  ;  XX.  428  ;  —  Dmltrie- 
vich,  xii.  72  ;  —  Egorovich, 
xviii.  3  ;  —  Fedotych,  xvii. 
28  ;  xxiii.  577  ;  —  Formich, 
iv.  323  ;  —  Tgndtych,  iii.  154 ; 

—  Ilich,  xviii.  3  ;  —  Ivano- 
vich,  i.  76 ;  iv.  245 ;  xxi. 
1.37;  —  Matvyi5ich,xix.  484; 

—  Mikhaylovich,    xxi.    369; 

—  MItrich,  V.  444  ;  —  ]Mos6- 
ich,  xviii.  121 ;  — Pdvlovich, 
xii.  201  ;  —  Petrovich,  ix. 
98  ;  —  Semenych,  xviii.  89  ; 

—  Vasllevich,  xii.  124;  247; 

—  Vasllych,  i.  110;  —  Ydr 
kovlevich,  i.  340 ;  —  Zakhd- 
rych,  xviii.  412. 


Ivdnov,    iv.    344 ;  x.   364 ;    xx. 

425  ;  Gordy^y,  xii.  376  ;  Ivdn 

Semovich,  xxi.  36. 
Ivdnushka,.  vi.  170. 
Ivtlshenkov,  xxi.  185. 
Ivdshiu,  iii.  11. 
Ivin,    i.    81 ;    xviii.    290 ;    see 

Serezha. 
Izyumch6nko,  xix.  512  ;  xxiii. 

317. 

Japanese,  religion,  xix.  522 ; 
xxiii.  327  ;  Land  Reclaiming 
Society,  xxiv.  161. 

Jaures,  xxiii.  256. 

Jealousy  (Levin's),  x.  381,  xi. 
35,  74;  (Kitty's),  xi.  232; 
xviii.  355,  383,  394. 

Jesuitism,  vii.  400. 

Jews,  their  faith  interesting, 
but  not  important,  xiv.  12; 
their  faith  denied  by  Christ, 
107 ;  maltreated  by  Chris- 
tians, xvi.  19  ;  their  definition 
of  life,  244 ;  their  revenge 
for  their  opjiression,  xviii. 
335  ;  their  concept  of  relig- 
ion, xxiv.  83.  See  also  i.  475, 
ii.  459,  xi.  258,  261,  272,  xix. 
116,  XX.  250,  xxi.  27,  xxiii. 
483,  502,  and  Grossmann, 
Kishinev,  Rozovski,  Spinoza. 

Johann,  iii.  177. 

John,  xii.  469. 

John,  the  apostle,  his  witness 
concerning  Christ,  xiv.  139 ; 
Christ's  testimony  concern- 
ing, 157  ;  first  epistle  of,  xv. 
389. 

John  the  Terrible,  viii.  449, 
xvi.  76,  xix.  253,  502. 

John,  Peter  I.'s  brother, xix.  504. 

Joseph,  vi.  510;  the  story  of, 
xxii.  232,  301. 


INDEX 


363 


Josephus  Flavius,  xv.  207. 
Joutt'roy,  xxii.  IGi. 
Joy  at  doing  good,  iii.  317. 
Judaism,  renounced  by  Jesus, 

XV.   249 ;    defined,   xvi.    104 ; 

what  its  demands  are,  ISO. 
Judas  and  Christ,  xv.  269. 
Judge  not,  meaning  of,  xvi.  24  ; 

as  understood  by  the  church, 

32. 
Julien,  Stanislas,  xxiii.  49. 
Julius,  xix.  10. 
Juluer,  vii.  22. 
Jungniann,  xxii.  163. 
Jm'isprudence,  xiii.  34. 
Justice,  crowd  guided   by,  iv. 

236. 
Juvenalis,  xix.  9. 

Kalinin,  ix.  16. 
Kalkbrenner,  i.  384. 
Kaliigin,  ii.  337. 
Kaluzhski,  Mishka,  x.  97. 
Kdmenski,    v.    191 ;    Madame, 

xxi.  367. 
Kamerovski,  ix.  178. 
Kant,  iv.  8,  52,  xi.  36.5,  xiii.  67, 

xvii.  20.3,  233,  xix.  361,  .53.5, 

xxi.  413,  xxii.  153, 157,  xxiv. 

111. 
Kdpchich,  xviii.  203. 
Kapitonych,  x.  269. 
Kapitoshka,  xii.  446. 
Kardgin,  Julie,  v.   63 ;    Mdrya 

Lvovna,  54. 
Karamzin,  iv.  262,  270,  vi.  447. 
Karatdev,  P]at6n,  viii.  63,  132, 

220,  223,  424. 
Karbovdnets,  xii.  214. 
Kar^nin,  Aleksy6y  Aleksdndro- 

vich,  ix.  93 ;  see  Anna  Arktl- 

devna. 
Karibdnov,  x.  69. 
Karl  Ivdnovich,  i.  1 ;  vi.  137 ; 


—  Fedorovich,   iv.    323 ;    — 

Fedorych,  xi.  124. 
Karma,  xix.  192. 
Karmiinov,  xxii.  41. 
Karp,    ii.    54 ;   vii.  225 ;   xxiii. 

580. 
Karr,    Alphonse,    i.   249 ;    and 

war,  xi.  397 ;  xx.  260,  xxii. 

227. 
Kartilsov,  x.  477. 
Kartuikin,  Sim6u  Petrov,  xxi. 

45. 
Karts,  ii.  362. 
Katavclsov,  x.  315. 
Kiitenka,  i.  19. 
Katerina,    xii.    234;    — Alek- 

syeevna,    xxi.    134 ;    —  Pdv- 

lovua,  xi.  107;    — Petrovna, 

viii.    25 ;    —  Semenovna,    v. 

79. 
Kdtichka,  vii.  553. 
Katkov,  xix.  79. 
K%a,    iii.    283;    v.    372;    xii. 

190;  xxii.  106. 
Katyusha,  xii.  401 ;  see  Mdslova. 
Kaulbach,  ix.  208. 
Kaydanov,  iv.  336. 
Kaysilrov,  Paisi,  Sergy6ich,  vii. 

288. 
Kaz^rski,  ii.  380. 
Kazi-Muhamnied,  xii.  100. 
Kedrov,  ix.  204. 
Kepler,  viii.  487. 
Ker,  xxii.  108. 
Keys,  ix.  40. 
Khildzhi-MunU,  iv.  249. 
Khandrikov,  vi.  138. 
Khasdnov,  i.  483. 
Kh<''mnitser,  xv.  263. 
Kliilkov,  D.  A.,  xxiii.  434. 
Khitrov  Market,  xvii.  9. 
Khlopov,    i.    471  ;    Mdrya    Ivd 

iiovna.  464  ;  ii.  495. 
Khlyiistov,  xi.  151. 


364 


INDEX 


Khomyak6v,  xi.  366,  xiii.  102, 
334,   339,  XX.  62,  xxi.  413, 
xxiii.  303. 
Khorovod,  in  the  Caucasus,  ii. 

284o 
Khoryiishkin,  iii.  894. 
Khrapkov,  iii.  413. 
Ktiry^mov,  iv.  401. 
Khudyakov,  iv.  261,  263,  270. 
Khvedor,  vii.  360. 
Khvostikov,  vi.  502. 
Kiesewetter,  xviii.  48  ;  xxi.  365. 
Kifa  Moki^vich,  xvi.  227,  235. 
Kingdom  of   God,  the,  within 
us,  vi.   116  ;  explained,   xiv. 
58  ;     explained    by    Christ, 
107;  157;  the  coming,  164; 
181;   for  the  poor,   216;  of 
the  coming  of  the,  xv.  100 ; 
435;    is   near,    xix.   198;   at 
hand,  507  ;    The  Kingdom  of 
God  Is  Within  You,  xx.  3 ;  is 
taken  by  force,  366  ;    Seek, 
371 ;    men    must    contribute 
to  the  establishment  of,  484  ; 
realization  of,  xxiii.  61. 
Kingsley,  xix.  80. 
Kipling,  xxii.  228,  279,  xxiii. 

290,  293. 
Kirchmann,  xxii.  163. 
Kirlll  Matvy^evich,  vi.  274. 
Kirsdnov,  ii.  512. 
Klrsten,  v.  215. 
Kiryak,  ii.  154. 
Kiryukha,  iv.  217. 
Kiryvlsha,  vi.  170,  xii.  41. 
Kiryushka,  iv.  235. 
Kiselev,  viii.  281. 
Kishinev,      On      the      Kishinev 

Tragedy,  xxiii.  502. 
Kitdeva,  xxi.  13. 
Kitty,  ix.  31. 
Klara,  xxi.  361;  — Vasllevna, 

^1. 


Klausewitz,  vii.  295. 
Klingen,  xviii.  188. 
Klinger,  xxii.  227,  253. 
Klyucharev,  vii.  399. 
Kuaust,  ix.  40. 
Knight,  xxii.  150  et  passim. 
Knight,  Richard,  xxii.  168. 
Knowableuess    of   objects   and 
the   unity  of   the   law,   xvi. 
287. 
Knowledge,  false  direction  of, 
xvi.  278;  false,  defined,  283. 

Kochub^y,  vi.  228. 

Kock,  Paul  de,  i.  385. 

Kokosha,  iii.  377. 

Kolkov,  iii.  112. 

Kolosov,  xxi.  18. 

Kolpikov,  i.  313. 

Koltso,  Ivan,  xii.  130. 

Koltsov,  iv.  230. 

Kolya,  xxi.  268. 

Koniarov,  viii.  184. 

Komarovski,  xx.  127. 

Komisarov,  x.  423. 

Kondratev,  Markel,  xxii.  49. 

Kondrdtevna,  vi.  390. 

Kondrdti,  ix.  169. 

Konstantin  Pdvlovich,  v.  387. 

Kopylov,  Gerdsim,  iii.  413. 

Korableva,  xxi.  158. 

Korchdgin,  xxi.  16  ;  Marlya,  25. 

Korf ,  xii.  292. 

Korndkov,  Princess,  i.  61 ;  (Tol- 
stoy's mistake  for  Kardgin), 
Julie,  V.  96. 

Korn6y,  x.  269 ;  xxi.  146. 

Kornllov,  ii.  313  ;  xxi,  425. 

Korolev,  xii.  283. 

Korsunski,  Egorushka,  ix.  121. 

Korzlnsld,  xi.  201. 

Kostylln,  xii.  93. 

Kot^lnikov,  ii.  511. 

Kozeltsov,  Mikhaylo,  ii.  390; 
Vladimir,  401. 


IKDEX 


365 


Kozl6v,  ii.  38. 

Kozlovski,  V.  197. 

Koznyshev,  Sergy6y  Ivdnovich, 

xix.  30. 
Kraft,  ii.  517. 
Kralik,  xxii.  146  et  passim. 
Kramski,  xxii.  300. 
Krasinski,   x.  473 ;    Waleryan, 

xxiii.  403. 
Krause,  xxii.  160. 
Kraut,  Friedrich  Krestyauych, 

ii.  441. 
Kreutzer    Sonata,     The,     xxiii. 

807  ;  analysis  of,  390. 
Ki'iegsmut,  xxi.  366. 
Kriuski,  Xikokly,  xii.  203. 
Krltski,  ix.  136. 
Krivin,  ix.  122. 
Krivtsov,  xi.  273. 
Kropotkin,  xxiv.  139. 
Krouq,  vi.  127. 
Kriidner,  viii.  410. 
Kriiger,  xxiii.  459. 
Krugosvy^tlov,  Aleksy6y  Vladi- 

mirovich,  xviii.  187. 
Kriipov,  X.  118. 
Krupp,  xxiv.  25. 
Krylov,  his  language  criticized, 
iv.     273;      xi.      208,      xvii. 
318. 
Kryltsov,     Anatoli     Petrovich, 

xxii.  22. 
KucVium,  xii.  124. 
Kudiishev,  xxii.  508. 
Kuleshov,    Grigori    Eflmovich, 

xxi.  37. 
Kuntz,  xii.  210. 
Kurdgin,  v.  44. 
Kurdkin,  vii.  19. 
Kurbski,  viii.  452. 
Kutiizov,  Mikhail  Ilarionovich, 

V.  24. 
Kuzm^,  i.  297  ;  ix.  250. 
Kuzminishna,  iii.  325. 


Kuz(5vlev,  ix.  305. 
Kvytski,  x.  241. 

Lauazov,  Visarion,  xii.  197. 
Laboiu-,  glorification  of,  x.  3 ; 
in  the    field   (Levin's),    20; 
the    Gospel    of,    ilhistrative 
story,  Ivan  the  Foul,  xii.  481  ; 
condition  of  happiness,  xvi. 
159  ;    always  secures  a  sus- 
tenance,    172 ;     for    others, 
172 ;  life  of,  not  considered 
respectable,     xvii.    45 ;     life 
without,  the  ideal  of  the  rich 
and  the   poor,  49 ;    through 
violence  not  good,  152 ;  life 
of,  199 ;  exploitation  of,  ex- 
cuse for,  201 ;  exploiters  of, 
219  ;  division   of,   criticized, 
242  ;  unjust,  249  ;  true,  306  ; 
physical,  necessity  for,  298 ; 
— ,  improves  the  quality  of 
mental     activity,      299 ;  — , 
leads   to    simplicity   of   life, 
300;  — ,    healthy,    301;    — , 
advantages  of,  315  ;  question, 
Tolst6y's    idea    about,    mis- 
understood, xxiii.  77  ;  —  The 
only      Means,      241;      and 
woman,   490 ;    sinfulness    of 
abstaining  from,  513 ;  man- 
ual, 514  ;   The  Slavery  of  Our 
Time,   xxiv.  3 ;    exploitation 
of  human.  10;  false  attitiide 
of  economic  science  to  agri- 
cultural,    20 ;     division    of, 
criticized,  25 ;    true  division 
of,    25;    To   the    Working 
People,  131.     See  also  Work. 
Labourers,  in  the  vineyard,  xv. 
80  ;   we  are,  of  God's  work, 
xvi.  477  ;  xvii.  33  ;  condition 
of,  xxiii.    179  ;  life  of,  195 ; 
their  wretchedness,   xxiv.  6  ; 


366 


INDEX 


short-lived,  11  ;  city,  their 
condition  due  to  being  de- 
prived of  nature,  19  ;  real 
needs  of  agricultural,  131: ; 
must  free  themselves  from 
their  factory  slavery,  141. 

Lamaism,  xxiv.  88. 

Lamartine,  xxii.  221. 

Land,  deprivation  of,  a  means 
of  enslavement,  xvii.  113  ; 
ownership  of,  its  origin  and 
effect,  xxiv.  39 ;  free,  only 
solution  of  labour  question, 
134 ;  not  factories  object  of 
struggle,  136  ;  life  on  the, 
the  chief  condition  of  a  happy 
and  independent  life,  137 ; 
sufficient  to  support  all,  139  ; 
to  be  given  to  peasants,  141 ; 
ownership  of,  not  recognized 
by  the  peasants,  142  ;  how  it 
is  to  be  emancipated,  157 ; 
question,  its  difficulties,  158. 
See  also  George. 

Landau,  Jules,  xi.  275. 

Langeron,  v.  425. 

Langley,  xxii.  281,  300. 

Language,  literary,  incompre- 
hensible to  i^easants,  iv.  270; 
bad.  in  books  for  children, 
xii.  259  ;  study  of,  xxiii.  368. 

Lankovski,  x.  472. 

Lannes,  v.  264. 

Lao-tse,  xvi.  248,  xix.  115,  xx. 
478,  xxii.  368,  xxiii.  49. 

Larrey,  v.  483. 

Lashers,  xxiii.  316. 

Lassale,  xxiii.  256. 

Latin,  why  studied,  iv.  6  ;  use- 
less, 124  ;  not  needed,  339. 

Latour,  ii.  384. 

Laura,  ix.  181. 

Lauriston,  viii.  267. 

Lavisse,  xx.  403. 


Lavr^nti,  ix.  161. 

Lavrushka,  v.  205,  (before 
Napoleon)  vii.  186. 

Law,  the,   of  Moses  false,  xv. 
42  ;  the  written,  nullitied  by 
Christ,  xvi.  49 ;  under  which 
we  live,  xix.  112  ;  the  eternal 
114 ;    departure    from     the 
129;  xxi.  513;    and  slavery, 
xxiv.  43;    not  expressive  of 
the  will  of  the  people,  47 
possible,    because    there    are 
men    to    compel    obedience 
49 ;  based  on  organized  vio 
lence,  50 ;  criticized,  106. 

Lawyer,  x.  200;  (Fand,riu)  xxi. 
226. 

Lazarev,  vi.  211. 

Laziitka,  ii.  252. 

Leaven,  parable  of  the,  xiv. 
187 ;  of  the  Pharisees,  the 
Sadducees,  and  the  Hero- 
dians,  xv.  195. 

Leconte  de  Lisle,  xxii.  221. 

Leibniz,  xxiv.  111. 

Lelorme  d'ldeville,  vii.  188. 

Lemarrois,  v.  291. 

Leopardi,  xxii.  211. 

Lepage-Bastien,  xxii.  321. 

Leppich,  vii.  257. 

Leshchetltski,  xviii.  47. 

Lessing,  xvii.  225,  xix.  358, 
xxii.  154. 

L^rmontov,  i.  420,  470,  ii.  184, 
iii.  348,  xvi.  379,  xxiii.  293. 

Leroy  Beaulieu,  xx.  50. 

L6vgque,  xxii.  150. 

Levin,  Konstantln  Dmltrievich, 
ix.  27  ;  Nikolay,  44. 

Levushka,  xxi.  364. 

Lewes,  iv.  122,  132. 

L'Hermite,  xxii.  300,  321. 

Liberalism  ineffective  and 
harmful,  xxii.  531. 


INDEX 


367 


Liberalization  of  the  profes- 
sions, XX.  275. 

Liberals,  Letter  to  the  Liberals, 
xii.  529  ;  xxiii.  521. 

Liberation,  Cliristian's,  through 
personal  effort,  xx.  220  ;  by 
aggi'egates  impossible,  223. 
See  also  Deceptions,  Miracles, 
Offences. 

Libertinism  explained,  xviii. 
324. 

Lichtenfels,  v.  254. 

Lichtenstein,  v.  425. 

Lidiya  Ivd,novna,  ix.  168. 

Lidy,  ix.  122. 

Life,  problems  of,  present 
themselves  to  the  boy,  i. 
219;  educating  the  people, 
iv.  23  ;  the  future,  vi.  165 ; 
is  God,  viii.  228 ;  questions 
of,  and  the  sciences,  xiii.  25; 
vanity  of,  32;  as  explained 
by  science,  33  ;  and  the  great 
masses,  48  ;  God  is,  66;  search 
after  a  meaning  of,  leads  to 
faith,  xiv.  9;  the  word  in  the 
Gospel  explained,  23;  there 
is  no  other,  xv.  78 ;  earthly, 
is  death,  99;  the  true,  169; 
Christ's  concept  of,  301; 
Jewish  conception  of  the 
eternal,  the  true,  xvi.  119; 
Christ  teaches  salvation  from 
personal,  122,  126  ;  eternal, 
taught  by  Christ,  1-28;  all, 
emancipated  from  the 
church,  189 ;  of  the  world 
proceeding  without  the 
church,  190  ;  why  do  we  live 
the  life  we  live?  191;  men 
have  no  basis  of,  197 ;  On 
Life,  226  ;  as  viewed  by  con- 
temporary science,  227  ;  in 
the    cell,    230 ;    concept   of, 


variously  understood,  232 ; 
the  whole  of,  not  studied  by 
the  sciences,  234  ;  determines 
science,  235;  fundamental 
contradictions  of,  239 ;  con- 
tradiction of,  recognized, 
243;  aim  of,  243;  animal 
existence  not,  252 ;  inertia 
the  only  guide  of,  255  ;  be- 
gins with  manifestation  of 
rational  consciousness,  266  ; 
birth  of  true,  in  man,  272 ; 
true,  begins  with  negation 
of  animal  personality,  275 ; 
true,  not  what  takes  place 
in  space  and  time,  292 ; 
renunciation  of  tlie  good  of 
the  animal  personality  is  the 
law  of  human,  297 ;  the 
animal  personality  is  an  in- 
strument of,  301 ;  causes  of 
the  wretchedness  of  the  per- 
sonal, 308 ;  is  unceasing- 
motion,  362  ;  is  a  relation  to 
the  world,  362 ;  does  not 
cease  in  this  world,  366  ;  the 
visible,  part  of  the  infinite 
motion  of,  377 ;  a  striving 
after  the  good,  398  ;  of  other 
beings  can  be  known  only 
through  our  own,  399 ;  On 
the  Meaning  of  Life,  435  ;  the 
meaning  of,  in  establishing 
the  kingdom  of  God  upon 
earth,  435  ;  the  aim  of,  437  ; 
there  is  no  aim  of,  438 ;  in 
the  fulfilment  of  the  message, 
439  ;  meaning  of,  the  service 
of  God,  440;  motion  toward 
the  light,  441  ;  has  no  aim, 
442  ;  why,  how  to  live,  44  t  ; 
is  to  do  the  will  of  Him  who 
sent  me  into  life,  446;  aim 
of,  472  ;  misfortunes  of,  xvii. 


368 


INDEX 


312 ;  disagreement  of,  with 
conscience,  313 ;  perilousness 
of,  313 ;  a  place  of  service, 
462  ;  tlie  eternal,  xix.  81 ;  in 
reason,  97 ;  form  of,  101 ; 
aim  of,  not  enjoyment,  111 ; 
what  is  it?  115;  of  labour, 
133,  136 ;  the  true,  138 ;  the 
meaning  of,  the  foundation 
of  faith,  140 ;  questions  of, 
150 ;  for  Christ's  sake,  173  ; 
senselessness  of,  frequently 
due  to  intoxication,  360 ; 
consecutiveness  of  actions 
symptom  of  good,  367 ;  a 
good  and  a  bad,  incompatible, 
384 ;  of  luxury  of  man  of 
the  world,  387  ;  good,  consists 
in  doing  good  to  others,  389 ; 
a  motion  toward  perfection, 
XX.  102 ;  a  contradiction  to 
what  is  right,  118;  men 
returning  to  the  pagan  con- 
cept of,  138  ;  new  concept  of, 
xxii.  365 ;  solution  of  the 
contradiction  of,  368 ;  in 
this  world,  374 ;  the  true, 
differs  from  the  previous, 
375  ;  hindrance  to  true,  377  ; 
true,  and  what  not  to  do, 
379 ;  according  to  Christ's 
teaching,  413;  the  religious 
basis  of,  xxiii.  359 ;  and  the 
comprehension  of,  429;  the 
future,  432  ;  irrational,  523  ; 
slavish  forms  of  life,  524 ; 
growth  of,  529  ;  the  meaning 
of,  532  ;  of  the  consciousness 
of  the  spiritual  principle, 
534;  541. 

Light,  xiv.  175 ;  Walk  in  the 
Light  tohile  Ye  Have  Light, 
xix.  3. 

Likhachev,  viii.  209. 


Lili,  viii.  25. 

Lily,  ix.  189. 

Linen-measurer,  iv.  379. 

Linev,  D.  A.,  xxii.  7. 

Linon,  Mile.,  ix.  36. 

Lise  (Bolkonski),  v.  9. 

Lisinkovski,  ii.  368. 

Liszt,  i.  384,  xxi.  457,  xxii. 
228,  253,  305,  309. 

Literature,  popular,  wanting, 
iv.  36 ;  of  no  use  to  the 
masses,  172;  modern,  criti- 
cized, xxii.  211,  252. 

Livermore,  Mrs.,  xx.  484. 

Liza,  iii.  150,  xviii.  363. 

Lizdnka,  xviii.  28 ;  xxi.  175. 

Lizav6ta  Leonidovna,  see 
Betsy. 

Lobes,  Francis  de,  xx.  73. 

Lombroso,  xxi.  107,  457,  xxiii. 
49. 

Lopukhin,  vi.  435. 

Lord's  Prayer  an  exposition  of 
the  Gospel,  xv.  369. 

Lorrain,  v.  76. 

Louis  XL,  viii.  446,  xix.  502. 

Louis  XIV.,  viii.  432. 

Louis  XVL,  xix.  502,  xx.  247. 

Louis  Philippe,  viii.  449,  xix. 
502. 

Louise,  viii.  416. 

Love,  first,  i.  36,  102  ;  effect  of, 
instead  of  punishment,  208  ; 
in  manorial  servants,  213  ; 
classified,  351  ;  falling  in, 
419 ;  the  only  happiness,  ii. 
69;  unrequited,  83;  univer- 
sal, 196,  238;  (016nin's)  ana- 
lyzed, 263 ;  for  women  in- 
terfering with  universal  love, 
266;  woman's,  iii.  334;  do- 
mestic, 335 ;  exists  only 
with  freedom,  iv.  182 ;  chil- 
dren in,  V.  66  ;  of  neighbour 


INDEX 


369 


opposed  to  war,  150 ;  of 
neighbour,  157;  unnatural, 
of  the  French,  vii.  528 ;  of 
enemy  and  of  God,  5i5 ; 
(Karatdev's)  universal,  viii. 
68  ;  is  God  (Andrt^y's  view), 
86  ;  God  is,  illustrative  story. 
What  Men  Lire  by,  xii.  327  ; 
Where  Love  Is.  There  God  Is 
Also,  445  ;  of  enemy,  com- 
mandment about,  xvi.  82; 
of  all  men,  215  ;  defined, 
323, 330  ;  impossible  for  men 
who  do  not  understand  the 
meaning  of  life,  327;  an 
activity  in  the  present,  332; 
true,  is  the  consequence  of 
the  renunciation  of  the  good 
of  personality,  335  ;  is  the 
only  full  activity  of  the  true 
life,  339;  is  God,  427;  the 
manifestation  of  God,  428; 
should  be  increased  in  our- 
selves, 465 ;  conquers  all, 
illustrative  story,  The  God- 
son, xvii.  470 ;  and  matri- 
monial relations,  xviii.  314 ; 
depending  on  physical  near- 
ness, 329;  what  is  meant  by 
being  in,  338;  carnal,  and 
anger  the  same  animal  sen- 
sations, 364 ;  dreamed  of  by 
women,  370 ;  carnal,  not  to 
be  exalted,  423  ;  and  carnal 
lust  confused,  444 ;  of  men, 
463;  to  be  pure,  450;  exclu- 
sive, not  harmful,  if  it  is  not 
egotism,  451;  falling  in, 
makes  easier  the  struggle 
with  chastity,  453 ;  and 
chastity  contrary  to  sexual 
instinct,  459;  Christian,  the 
true  union,  466;  Christian, 
xix.    40;   95;    is  life,    109; 


of  neighbour,  168 ;  and  rea- 
son, 181;  the  activity  of,  in 
a  famine,  247  ;  demands  of, 
250  ;  infectious,  257  ;  of  hu- 
manity, XX.  106  ;  zenith  of, 
for  woman,  xxi.  84 ;  among 
men,  xxii.  55 ;  obstacles  to 
its  manifestation,  377  ;  The 
Demands  oj  Love,  xxiii.  547  ; 
has  no  limit  for  sacrifices, 
547;  not  violence,  the  only 
rational  foundation  of  soci- 
ety, xxiv.  124. 

Lovdvski,  viii.  181. 

LoweU,  xxiii.  293,  462. 

Lozinski,  xxii.  23. 

Lubomirski,  vii.  144. 

Lucerne,  iii.  231. 

Lukashka,  ii.  109. 

Liikhnov,  iii.  112. 

Lulli,  xvii.  417. 

Lust  leads  to  new  and  stronger 
lusts,  xviii.  460. 

Luther,  iv.  6,  11,  159,  xiv.  32, 
xix.  138,  XX.  71,  xxii.  191. 

Lvov,  Ars^ni,  xi.  188;  Natalie, 
71. 

Lydpinski  lodging  house,  xvii. 
IL 

Lying  ruins  a  man's  life,  xvii. 
290. 

Lyubasha,  iii.  136. 

Lyubdv,  Sergy^evna,  i.  340 ; 
see  Mdslova. 

Macaire,  Robert,  xxii.  315. 
Macaulay,  iv.  122,  165,  335. 
Mack,  V.  179. 
Madmen  and  non-resistance  to 

evil,  xxiii.  394. 
Maeterlinck,     xxii.    222,   253, 

309,  xxiii.  290. 
Magdalen,  xix.  45. 
Magnltski,  vi.  235. 


370 


INDEX 


Maison  Hustique,  ii.  7,  61. 
Makdr,  xx.  817;  —  Aleksy^e- 

vich,  vi.  189  ;  —  Semenovich, 

xii.  77. 
Makdri,  xiii.  94. 
Makd,rin,  vi.  502. 
Makarov,  iv.  197. 
Makatyuk,  ii.  528;  iii,  25. 
Mak^ev,  vi.  190. 
Makhotin,  ix.  276. 
Maksim,  iii.  436. 
Makslmka,  vi.  16. 
Maksimov,  Fedor  Makslmycli, 

ii.  486. 
Maky^ev,  viii.  278. 
MaMkhov  INIount,  ii.  451. 
Maldnya,  xii.  481. 
Maldsha,  vii.  391 ;  xii.  466. 
Malevannians,  xx.  395. 
Mallarm6,  xxii.  214,  222,  253. 
Malthus,    iv.    166,    xvii.   227, 

xxii.    197;    absurdity  of  his 

theory,      xvii.     203,      xviii. 

502. 
Maltlshcheva,  ix.  209. 
Mdltus,  xi.  58. 
Malvlna,  viii.  385. 
Malvintsev,    Anna    Igndtevna, 

viii.  23. 
Mametkul,  xii.  132. 
Mammon,    xiv.     288,    God   or 

Mammon,     xxiii.     83.       See 

also  Property. 
Mamonov,  vii.  249. 
Mamonova,  xi.  109. 
Man,  and  wife  one,  xviii.  477  ; 

and    Christianity,    492 ;    his 

destiny,  493  ;  a  free  conduc- 
tor, xix.  149. 
IManet,  xxii.  226,  309. 
Manson,  xx.  469. 
Kansiirov,  xxii.  508. 
Manual      Labour,    xvii.     415 ; 

xxiii.  366.   See  also  Labour. 


Manufactures  injurious  to  RuS' 
sian  development,  x.  380. 

Marcus  Aurelius,  xv.  371,  xix. 
528,  XX.  503. 

Mareniydna,  xviii.  96. 

Mdrfa,  xviii.  123;  xix.  424; 
xxiii.  571. 

Marfutka,  iv.  279. 

Maria  Theresa,  vii.  10. 

Marie,  ix.  100;  xi.  20. 

Mariette,  168. 

Marina,  xii.  244 ;  xviii.  83, 

Marital  infidelity  should  not 
be  extolled,  xviii.  420  ;  rela- 
tions, to  be  as  to  strangers, 
481 ;  — ,  misunderstanding 
in,  due  to  rivalry,  488.  See 
also  The  Death  of  Ivan  Rich, 
The  Kreutzer  Sonata,  Mar- 
riage. 

Marking  of  pupils  wrong,  iv. 
242. 

Mdrkov,  iv.  152,  203  ;  v.  412. 

Marllnski,  i.  470. 

Marriage,  unhappiness  in  (An- 
dr6y's),  v.  109;  (Andr^y's 
view  of),  172  ;  pui'poge  of,  is 
the  family,  viii.  390 ;  in 
Cana,  xiv.  92 ;  and  divorce, 
XV.  154 ;  a  ti-ap,  xviii.  333  ; 
the  sale  of  an  innocent  girl 
to  a  libertine,  339  ;  not  in- 
stituted by  Christianity,  428 ; 
church,  without  an  ideal, 
447  ;  does  not  lead  to  happi- 
ness, 462 ;  should  be  con- 
tracted from  calculation, 
464 ;  next  in  importance  to 
death,  465 ;  not  to  be  en- 
tered into  in  haste,  465 ; 
when  it  gives  happiness, 
466 ;  a  non-Christian  insti- 
tution, 467 ;  a  sin  demand- 
ing    its     redemption,     468; 


INDEX 


Oil 


what  it  should  be,  471 ;  in- 
soluble, 476 ;  always  leads 
to  dissatisfaction,  480 ;  in- 
dissoluble, 484 ;  a  division 
of  labour,  486  ;  and  chastity, 
499 ;  and  poverty,  502 ; 
Christian,  six.  31. 

Martha,  Jesus  at  the  home  of, 
xiv.  374. 

Martin  Semenovich,  xvii.  35. 

Martsov,  ii.  416. 

Martyn  Avdy^ich,  xii.  445. 

Martyn,  C,  xx.  484. 

Martyrs,  of  the  teaching  of  the 
woi'ld,  xvi.  163 ;  modern, 
xix.  492;  — ,  regarded  as 
fanatics,  509. 

Marvisya,  xxi.  255. 

Marx,  xxii.  197,  xxiii.  Ill, 
256. 

Mary  Magdalene,  xiv.  141. 

Marya,  (Princess  Bolkonski), 
V.  139  ;  xii.  351 ;  —  Aleksan- 
drovna,  iii.  287  ;  —  Aleksy6- 
evna,  xviii.  466 ;  —  Anto- 
novna,  vi.  284 ;  —  Bogdii- 
novna,  vi.  52  ;  —  Borisovna, 
xi.  183 ;  —  Dmitrievna,  iii. 
274  ;  V.  91 ;  —  Efimovna,  x. 
460  ;  —  Feodorovna,  viii.  3  ; 

—  Genrikhovna,  vii.  78 ;  — • 
Grigorevna,  i.  475 ;  —  Ivdn- 
ovna,  i.  345 ;  xi.  148 ;  xii. 
186  ;  XV.  169  ;  xvii.  35  ;  xxi. 
68  ;  —  Konstantinovna,  xviii. 
188  ;  —  Minichna,  iii.  340  ; 

—  Nikolaevua,  vii.  552 ; 
(Mlsha),  ix.  134 ;  —  Pdv- 
lovna,  xxi.  268 ;  —  Seme- 
novna,  xi.  159  ;  — Vasflevna, 
X.  336  ;  xxi.  26  ;  —  Vldsevna, 
xi.  71. 

Marydnka,  ii.  108. 
Maryiishka,  iii.  325. 


Mdsha,  i.  1G6  ;  x.  152  ;  xii.  39  ; 
41. 

^Idshenka,  xxiii.  5. 

Miishka,  iii.  422  ;  xxi.  190. 

Mashutka,  xviii.  138. 

Masl^nnikov,  Mikhail  Ivilno- 
vich,  xxi.  231. 

Miislov  Katka,  xi.  172. 

Mdslova,  Kateriua  Mikhdy- 
lovna,  xxi.  4. 

Maslovski,  ii.  346. 

Masons  classified,  vi.  244.  See 
also  Freemasonry. 

Masses,  counteracting  educa- 
tion, iv.  3;  Tolstoy  siding 
with  the,  iv.  178 ;  Levin's 
love  of  the,  x.  4  ;  not  inter- 
ested in  any  wars,  xi.  393 ; 
the,  the  judges  of  their  edu- 
cation, xii.  290;  the,  have 
the  real  faith,  xiii.  59  ;  the 
belief  of  the,  xiii.  72;  the 
Russian,  free  from  patriot- 
ism, XX.  421  ;  highest  art 
comprehensible  to  the,  xxii. 
233. 

Materialism  fostered  through 
wrong  education,  xxiii.  372. 

Matier,  iv.  410. 

Mdtnev,  iii.  109. 

Matrena,  iii.  56  ;  264 ;  iv.  206 ; 
xi.  373;  xii.  332;  xviii.  83; 
—  Filimonovna,  ix.  10  ;  — 
Kharina,  xxi.  305;  —  ^lat- 
vy^evna,  vi.  510;  —  Pdv- 
lovna,  xxi.  68. 

Matreshka,  viii.  17. 

Matryushka,  ii.  39. 

Matter    least    knowable,    xvi. 

285. 
Matthew,  calling  of,  xiv.  120. 
Matvy(5ev,  Miklulylo,  iii.    152; 

the  — s,  xix.  451. 
Matvy^'y,  ix.   8 ;    —   Ivdnych, 


372 


INDEX 


xxi.  493  ;    —  Nikitich,  xxi. 
32. 

Maudsley,  xxi.  457. 

Maupassaut,  xix.  377,  xx.  155, 
168,  509,  xxii.  301. 

Mdvra,  xix.  247  ;  —  Kuzral- 
nifhna,  vii.  431. 

Mavrusha,  vi.  390. 

Maximilian,  xix.  502,  xxiii. 
169. 

Maydel,  xi.  168. 

Mayer  Liezen,  xxii.  301. 

Mdykov,  xxiii.  293. 

Mazdnov,  iv.  253. 

Mazzini,  Pietro,  xxiii.  498. 

Meat,  see  Vegetarianism. 

McKinley,  xxiii.  172. 

Medicine,  criticized,  vi.  160 ; 
Levin  does  not  believe  in,  x. 
14  ;  in  the  service  of  the  rich, 
xvii.  164  ;  use  of,  xix.  189  ; 
criticized,  xxiv.  109. 

Medov,  xix.  109,  184. 

Medyntsev,  xxi.  274. 

Meekness,  a  virtue,  i.  87  ;  prac- 
tised, 256  ;  in  marital  rela- 
tions, xviii.  478  ;  illustrative 
story,  Master  and  Workman, 
xix.  423.     See  also  Karatdev. 

M61nikov,  ii.  455. 

Melvlnski,  xviii.  3. 

Melyukov,  Pelag^ya  Dani- 
lovna,  vi.  400. 

Memory,  what  it  is,  xvi.  367. 

M6ndel,  Vdska,  ii.  346. 

Mendelssohn,  xxii.  153. 

Menenius  Agrippa,  xvii.  231. 

Mennonites,  xx.  4,  xxiii.  123, 
334,  338,  355. 

M^nshikov,  xix.  504. 

Menshov,  xxi.  242. 

Merkdlov,  Liza,  x.  93. 

ISIeslich^rski,  vi.  530. 

Meshcheryakov,  xii.  131. 


Messiah,  the  kingdom  of,  and 
science,  xvi.  238. 

Metanoia,  xiv.  56,  xvi.  113, 
119,  xxiii.  57.  See  also  Re- 
pentance. 

Metaphysics,  xiii.  27,  xix.  147. 

Method,  in  teaching,  proper 
and  wrong,  iv.  264  ;  of  read- 
ing, 267;  as  applied  in  teach- 
ing, 268  ;  senseless,  of  in- 
struction, xxiii.  375. 

Metivier,  vi.  433. 

Metrov,  xi.  191. 

Metternich,  vii.  4. 

Mevius,  xxii.  504. 

Mezankov,  x.  118. 

Michaud,  vii.  62. 

Michelangelo,  xvii.  282,  xxi. 
334,  xxii.  228,  xxiii.  253. 

Mickiewicz,  xxiii.  402. 

Middle  Ages,  schools  of  the,iv.6. 

Migunov,  iii.  109. 

Mikhdil  Danilovich,  xviii.  62 ; 

—  Dorof^ich,  ii.  484;  — 
Feoklitich,  viii.  184 ;  —  Ge- 
rdsiniovich,  xii.  239  ;  —  Ivdr 
novich,  V.  158;  —  Mikhdy- 
lovich,  xviii.  40  ;  —  Nikano- 
rych,  vi.  369 ;  —  Petrovich, 
X.  148  ;  xxi.  33  ;  —  Semeno- 
vich,  xii.  399 ;  Sergy6evich, 
xxi.  133 ;  —  Sidorych,  vi. 
356  ;  _  Vanilevich,  xix.  269. 

Mikhdyla,  vi.  4 ;  xii.  340 ;  — 

Stepilnych,  xxiii.  576. 
Mikhdylo,   i.   71;    464,   ii.  19; 

—  Mltrich,  V.  179. 
Mikhdylov,  ii.  333  ;  x.  353. 
Mikhaylovski  -  Danil^vski,      i. 

462. 
Mikhiiylych,  xi.  394. 
Mikh^ich,  iii.  414. 
Mikhel,  see  Golovfu,  Praskovya 

Fedorovna. 


INDEX 


373 


Mikhelson,  v.  156. 

^Mikh^y  Ivdnych,  i.  54, 

Mikhy^ev,  Peter,  xii.  398. 

Mikishka,  iv.  280. 

Miklshkin,  Fedka,  xviii.  99. 

Miklukho-Maklav,  xvi.  219. 

Milf5ev,  ix.  181.  ' 

Military,  men  liberals,  xx.  275; 
regulations  and  the  Gospel, 
xvi.  20 ;  schools,  horrui\s  of, 
vi.  339  ;  science  criticized, 
viii.  173 ;  stories,  The  Incur- 
sion, i.  461 ;  Sevastopol,  ii. 
311 ;  The  Cutting  of  the  Forest, 
477  ;    War  and  Peace,  v.  3. 

IMilitary  service,  attractiveness 
of,  its  indolence,  vi.  339 ; 
cruelty  of,  Nicholas  Stick, 
xix.  325  ;  and  the  govern- 
ment, 495;  corrupting  in- 
fluence of,  xxi.  73 ;  incom- 
patible with  Christianity, 
xxii.  525 ;  cause  of  calami- 
ties, xxiii.  211  ;  The  Solrliers' 
Memento,  265 ;  The  Officers* 
Memento,  277 ;  Letter  to  a 
Corporal,  449.  Refusal  to  do, 
Epilogue  to  Drozhzhin's  Life 
and  Death,  xix.  491  ;  xx.  30  ; 
hov7  thej^  are  treated  by  the 
govern  m'ent,  31;  213;  231; 
(Olkhovik),  xxii.  475;  The 
Approach  of  the  End,  489  ; 
Cartlmqo  Dehnda  Est,  xxiii. 
119  ;  Where  Is  the  Waij  Out? 
179  ;  the  only  way  to  abolish 
governments,  189;  443;  see 
also  Dukhobors.  Universal, 
cause  for,  xx.  181  ;  destruc- 
tive of  social  life,  182;  211; 
result  of  patriotism,  150. 

Milkers,  xix.  134,  xxiii.  316, 
3.54. 

Mill,  xvi.  464. 


driller,  Zakluli-  Ivinovich,  xviii. 

2(5. 
Millet,  xxii.  300,  321. 
Miloriidovich,  iii.  106  ;  v.  425. 
Milton,  xxii.  253. 
Minii,  i.  19. 
Mina,  iii.  160. 
Mindev,  Yaslli,  xii.  397. 
Minanguoit,  xvii.  184. 
Mingcil,  ii.  237. 
Ministers,    Letter   to    Ministers, 

xxiii.  414. 
Ministration,    to    others,    xvii- 

410,  xix.  117,  185. 
Miracles,   not   needed   for   the 

truth,  xiv.  15 ;  there  can  be 

no,   326;    no,   xv.    38;    352; 

substituted  for  the  truth  in 

the  Christian  teaching,  xx. 

57  ;  liberation  from  the  belief 

in,  xxii.  419. 
Mironov,    v.    233 ;    xix.    465 ; 

Tvdn,  xii.  223. 
Mirtsov,  iii.  88. 
]\Iisery  of  peasants,  ii.  8. 
Mi.'^ha,  vi.  490;  xxi.  504. 
IMishchenkov,  ii.  501. 
Mishka,  ii.  313;   iii.  422;  vii. 

475;    ix.    241;    x.    26;    xii. 

229. 
Missy,  see  Korchdgin,  Marlya.  ' 
Mltenka,  v.  89. 
Mi-ti,  xxiv.  124. 
Mltin,  xi.  267;  xxi.  427. 
Mitka,  i.  142;  iv.  231  ;  vi.  378. 
Mitrich,  iii.  51  ;  xviii.  124. 
IMitrofiiiiov,  Ily;l.  xii.  224. 
Mitrofiinushka,  iv.  336, 
Mltya,  ii.  6  ;  viii.  423. 
Mityiikha,  xi.  375. 
Mityiikhin,  ii.  320 ;   Vaska,  iii 

418. 
Mityiisha,  i.  400. 
Mogila,  Peter,  xvi.  181. 


374 


INDEX 


Mohammedanism,  xvi,  186, 
xxiii.  508. 

Moleschott,  iv.  132. 

Moliere,  vi.  43,  xvii.  304,  xxii. 
301. 

Molod^nkov,  F6dka,  xxi.  170. 

Moltke,  XX.  163. 

Mommsen,  iv.  315. 

Monasticism  not  taught  by 
Christ,  xvi.  150. 

Monet,  xxii.  226,  300. 

Moneta,  E.  T.,  xx.  133. 

Money,  the  highest  good  of 
most  men,  iii.  254  ;  evil  effect 
of,  in  the  popular  mind,  432; 
its  effect  on  conscience,  460 ; 
not  wealth  to  a  peasant,  iv. 
175;  paper,  viii.  443;  aid 
foolish  and  immoral,  xvii. 
53 ;  earned  by  writing  books 
ill-gotten,  91 ;  its  possession 
immoral,  94 ;  enslaves  peo- 
ple, 108 ;  whence  does  i^ 
come  ?  110 ;  cause  of  enslave- 
ment, 123  ;  medium  of  op- 
pression, 127 ;  labour  ex- 
ploited by  its  means,  125 ; 
not  a  standard  of  values, 
126  ;  most  convenient  method 
of  enslavement,  140 ;  the 
representative  of  violence, 
158 ;  the  representative  of 
the  labour  of  other  people, 
160 ;  gives  right  to  exploit 
other  people,  161  ;  is  slavery, 
164 ;  fails  to  benefit  the 
poor;  what  it  is,  xxiii.  130. 

Monte-Carlo,  xxiii.  121. 

Montesquieu,  vi.  237,  viii.  423, 
XX.  180. 

Montesquiou,  xxii.  224. 

Moore,  Thomas,  xxii.  496. 

Moral,  questions  troubling 
peasant    children,    iv.    255 ; 


nature,  high,  of  the  peasants, 
255;  life,  vi.  149;  truths 
held  in  disrespect,  xvii.  66 ; 
teaching,  xxiii.  527 ;  rules, 
528. 

Morality,  Eroshka's  idea  of,  ii. 
150  ;  active,  needed,  vi.  246  ; 
does  not  result  from  struggle, 
xvi.  422 ;  xix.  517 ;  defined, 
530  ;  three  kinds  of,  531 ; 
cannot  be  independent  of 
religion,  533;  Christian,  can- 
not be  deduced  from  pagan 
science,  537. 

Morand,  vii.  309. 

Mordvhiski,  xi.  272. 

Mor6as,  xxii.  224,  309. 

Moreau,  v.  161. 

Morel,  vii.  521 ;  E.,  xxii.  228. 

Morelle,  ii.  92. 

Morio,  I'Abb^,  v.  6. 

Moritz,  xxii.  153. 

Morion,  xxii.  300. 

Mormons,  xxiii.  306. 

Morozov,  iv.  197;  xvii.  94;  S. 
T.,  xxii.  504. 

Mortemart,  v.  6. 

Mortier,  v.  244. 

Mos6v,  ii.  117. 

Mosolov,  xviii.  298. 

Mother,  i.  8;  love  of,  60; 
French  idea  of,  v.  370,  372. 

Motherhood,  borne  lightly 
(Princess  Bolkonski),  v.  11; 
Princess  Mavya's  feeling  of, 
360 ;  glorification  of,  xvii. 
333.     See  also  Woman. 

Mountains,  their  effect  upon 
Ol^nin,  ii.  97. 

Mouton,  viii.  163. 

Movement  of  humanity  due  to 
action  of  all  men,  viii.  457. 

Mozart,  iii.  310,  378,  xviii.  380, 
xxii.  259,  278,  303. 


INDEX 


375 


Mozley,  xxii.  168. 

Mudrov,  vii.  94. 

Muhamedshah,  xii.  473. 

Miikhin,  iii.  S. 

Mliller,  Max,  xvi.  125,  xix. 
517,  XX.  207,  xxii.  159. 

Murat,  V.  263,  vi.  22. 

Muratori,  xxii.  157. 

Muravev,  Matvyey  Ivdnovich, 
xxiii.  96  ;  Sergy^y  Ivaiiovich, 
95. 

Muravev-Kdrski,  N.  N.,  xx.  30. 

Murder  preached  by  the  upper 
classes  for  their  advantage, 
XX.  318.  See  also  Assassinar 
tion,  Military  Service. 

Museum  a  school,  iv.  143. 

Music,  feelings  evoked  by,  i. 
41 ;  studying,  383 ;  affect- 
ing nerves,  423;  Albert,  iii. 
191 ;  of  the  Tyrolean  singer. 
Lucerne,  237  ;  fondness  for, 
309  ;  effect  of,  378  ;  iv.  345  ; 
singing  at  the  Rostovs',  v. 
106 ;  its  effect  upon  Rost6v, 
vi.  84 ;  378 ;  criticism  of 
modern,  xi.  203 ;  a  terrible 
thing,  xyii.  390 ;  its  effect 
upon  the  feelings,  The  Kreul- 
zer  Sonata,  xviii.  307 ;  and 
the  Jews,  xxii.  23  ;  modern, 
criticized,  228 ;  false  educa- 
tion in,  xxiii.  367  ;  cause  of 
unhappiness,  371  ;  the  es- 
sence of,  as  art,  391. 

Musicians,  Albert,  iii.  191  ; 
morality  of,  xviii.  372 ; 
coarseness  of,  xxii.  138. 

Miisin-Pushkin,  xii.  14. 

Musser,  Daniel,  xx.  25. 

Musset,  xxii.  221,  228. 

Mustard  seed,  parable  of  the, 
xiv.  198. 

Muther,  xxii.  175. 


Mutuality,   life   supported  by. 

xvii.  424. 
Mydgki,  ix.  208. 
Myilgkuv,  X.  174. 
Myaskin,  x.  255. 
Mydtliii,  xii.  205. 
Myeshkov,  vii.  490. 

Nab.^tov,  xxii.  50. 

Xildenka,  x.  442. 

Nad^'zhda,  i.  215. 

Nddson,  xxiii.  293. 

Napoleon  I.,  v.  303,  viii.  447, 
xii.  183,  xix.  502,  xx.  247, 
311,  321,  451,  xxii.  313,  315, 
xxiii.  156. 

Napoleon  TIT.,  xi.  321,  xiii. 
183. 

Naryshkin,  vi.  23. 

Nastiisya,  iii.  271 ;  — Ivdnovna, 
vi.  355. 

Nilstka,  xii.  244. 

Nilstya,  X.  145. 

Natiilya  Nikoldevna,  i.  17 ; 
xii.  185;  — Siivishna,  i.  49. 

Natdsha,  ii.  334 ;  v.  59,  xxi. 
173. 

Nationalization  of  land  not  a 
cure  for  slavery,  xvii.  157. 
See  also  Socialization. 

Natural  History  criticized, 
xxiv.  108. 

Natural  Science  Stories,  xii.  137. 

Naturalness  best  relation  be- 
tween teacher  and  pupil,  xii. 
293. 

Nature,  i.  153,  xix.  95;  return 
to,  xxiv.  138.  See  also  De- 
scriptive passages. 

Nazarenes,  xix.  497,  xxiii.  123, 
317,  334,  338. 

Nazdrka,  ii.  115. 

Necessity,  viii.  407. 

Needs,  infinitude  of,  xv.  316  , 


376 


INDEX 


determined  by  science,  xvi. 
237. 

NefMya,  iv.  208. 

Nef6rdov,  ii.  338. 

Nefr^dov,  Semen,  ii.  358. 

Negroes,  xx.  176. 

Neighbour,  meaning  of,  xvi. 
85. 

Neilson,  ix.  201. 

Nekhlyiidov,  Dmitri,  i.  239  ;  ii. 
3;  iii.  3 ;  86  ;  231;  Ivdno- 
vich,  xxi.  16 ;  El^na  Ivan- 
ovna,  68. 

Nekrdsov,  xxiii.  293. 

Nepsliis6tski,  ii.  339. 

Neptiinov,  Liza,  xi.  109. 

Nero,  xvii.  242,  xix.  10,  xx. 
172,  194,  xxii.  315,  330. 

Ndsterov,  iii.  109. 

Nesvitski,  v.  186. 

Nevyedovski,  xi.  148. 

Nev3'(5rov,  xxii.  72. 

New  Time,  xx.  386. 

Newton,  viii.  487,  xix.  518. 

Newton,  H.,  xx.  483. 

Ney,  vii.  308. 

Nibelung,  The  Ring  of  the,  ana- 
lyzed, xxii.  262. 

Nicene  Council,  xvii.  380. 

Nicholas,  xviii.  279. 

Nicholas  I.,  xix.  325,  502,  504, 
XX.  223,  xxiii.  156. 

Nicholas  II.,  XX.  449 ;  char- 
acterized, xxiii.  174  ;  242  ; 
Letter  to  Nicholas  II.,  353 ; 
Letter  to  the  Tsar  and  his 
Associates,  479. 

Nicodemus,  discourse  with, 
xiv.  164,  177. 

Nietzsche,  xix.  536,  xxii.  79, 
xxii.  215,  314,  xxiv.  95. 

Nihilism,  futility  of,  xvii.  388. 

Nihilists,  xii.  300. 

Nikandrov,  xi.  109. 


Nikiforov,  N.  N.,  xxi.  36. 
Nikita,   ii.  343  ;    iii.  7  ;    xviii. 

83 ;  xix.    424  ;  xxi.    398 ;  - 

Ivd,novich,  xvii,  29. 
Nikitenko,  v.  308. 
Nikitiii,  iii.  8  ;  Fillpp  Ivdnycli, 

ix.  27. 
Nikoldev,  ii.  391  ;  499. 
Nikol^y,  i.  3  ;   (Rostov),  v.  59  ; 

—  Andr^evich  (Bolkonski), 
vi.  59  ;  —  Ivdnovich,  iii.  11  ; 
xi.  159  ;  —  Mikhdylovich,  xii. 
219  ;  —  Pdvlovich,  xii.  239  ; 

—  Petrovich,  ii.  478  ;  —  8te- 
pdnovich,  xii.  203. 

Nikolskoe,  iii.  325. 

Nikon,  iii.  292. 

Nikonovna,  iii.  470. 

Nirvana,  xvi.  320. 

Nobel,  Nobel's  Bequest,  xxiii. 
332  ;  prize,  xxiii.  506. 

Nogays,  ii.  173,  xii.  96,  132. 

Non-Acting,  The,  xiii.  43  ;  Tol- 
stoy's idea  of,  misunder- 
vStood,  77. 

Non-resistance,  illustrative 
story,  The  Candle,  xii.  395  ; 
xiv.  258  ;  urgency  of  the 
precept,  xvi.  12 ;  must  be 
carried  out  with  one's  own 
strength,  15;  a  fundamen- 
tal precept,  19  ;  very  simple, 
44  ;  80 ;  214  ;  explained, 
218  ;  xvii.  379  ;  illustrative 
legend.  The  Godson,  470 ; 
Christian,  xix.  42 ;  The 
Kingdom  of  God  Is  within 
You,  XX.  3  ;  193  :  Letter  to 
Ernest  Hon;a?-d  Croshij,  483 ; 
misunderstood,  xxiii.  69 ; 
Tico  Wars,  133  ;  390  ;  393  ; 
will  abolish  ownership  of 
land,  xxiv.  147.  See  also 
Karataev. 


INDEX 


37 


Non-resistant,  The,  xx.  12. 

Nordov,  ii.  337. 

Nordston,  Miisha,  ix.  79. 

Normal  schools  give  uo  results, 
iv.  74:. 

Nostitz,  V.  197. 

Novel,  its  influence  upon  Tol- 
stoy, i.  386  ;  ought  to  begin 
with  marriage,  xviii.  400  ; 
difference  between  it  and 
the  story,  ss.  5'26  ;  modern, 
criticized,  xvii.  228. 

N6\akov,  vi.  107. 

Novodvorov,  xxii.  12. 

Novoslltsov,  V.  451. 

Nudity  in  art,  xxii.  212. 

Oath,  xv.  201 ;  commandment 
about  the,  xvi.  76 ;  the  of- 
fence of  the,  212 ;  xxiii. 
525. 

Obanchiik,  ii.  435. 

Object-teaching,  ridiculed,  iv. 
47  ;  useless  for  Russia,  51  ; 
criticized,  326. 

Oblonski,  family,  ix.  3 ;  Peter, 
xi.  273. 

Obodovski,  iv.  123,  337,  339. 

Oboleuski,  vii.  127. 

Obzhogov,  ii.  336. 

Odyntsev,  v.  153. 

Offences,  xv.  137  ;  struggle 
against  the,  228  ;  of  the 
undertakings  of  life,  xix. 
128  ;  of  glory,  132  ;  origin 
of,  xxii.  3!)()  ;  classification 
of,  397 ;  of  preparation, 
398;  of  family,  399;  of 
affairs,  399  ;  of  a.ssociation, 
400  ;  of  state,  402  ;  conse- 
quences of,  403  ;  to  be 
avoided,  423.  The  lie  of 
the,  of  preparation,  424  ; 
of   affairs,  425  ;    of   family, 


427  ;  of  association,  428  ;  of 
state,  429. 
Officers  in  the  army  must  have 

no  good  qualities,  vii.  61. 
Official,  statements  in  Russia 
unreliable,  iv.  85  ;  orders, 
how  they  are  executed,  98 ; 
interference  with  tlie  musses 
a  species  of  violenct".  10:!. 
See  also  Government. 

Officialdom,  banefulness  of,  iv. 
94. 

Ogarev,  iv.  132,  xix.  382. 

Ogilvie,  W.,  xxiv.  159. 

Okhotiu,  xxi.  456. 

Old  age  and  chastity,  xviii.  476. 

Old  Testament,  of  no  value  for 
a  Cla-istian,  xiv.  12  ;  not 
essential  to  Christianity,  17. 

Ol^nin,  ii.  81. 

Olga,  V.  79. 

Olgushka,  iv.  241. 

Oliver,  iii.  81. 

Olkhovik,  Peter,  xxii.  475, 
xxiii.  136. 

Onisim  Mikhaylovich,  ii.  137. 

Opera,  stupidity  of,  xxii.  137  ; 
Wagner's,  criticized,  259. 

6perov,  i.  417. 

Order,  in  school  is  wrong  edu- 
cation, iv.  234 ;  the  new,  xx. 
.366. 

Organic  life  does  not  originate 
from  the  inorganic,  xvi.  236. 

Origen,  xx.  4,  71,  xxiii.  123. 

Orleans,  xxiii.  156. 

Orlov-DenLsov,  viii.  108. 

Orthodox  Churcli,  description 
of  the,  xiii.  1 10  ;  activity  of 
the,  XX.  73. 

6sip  Igndtevich,  li.  412. 

Osten,  xxi.  504. 

Osterman-Tolstoy,  vi.  1 12. 

Ostrovski,  xxii.  252. 


378 


INDEX 


Otho,  iv.  169,  174,  177. 

Otr^pev,  Grigori,  xxiii.  156. 

Oudinot,  vi.  178. 

Owen,  iv.  311. 

Ownei'ship,  a  fiction,  xix.  172  ; 
an  evil,  173  ;  aiiti-Christiiiu, 
174;  and  Christianity,  17.5; 
of  land  not  justified,  xxiii. 
205  ;  of  products  of  labour" 
not  justified,  208  ;  of  land 
rejected,  396 ;  of  property, 
how  it  originated,  xxiv.  42  ; 
of  land,  to  be  destroyed, 
144 ;  to  be  stopped  by  non- 
participation  in  the  army, 
148 ;  an  evil,  149. 

Pagans,  Christ  nearer  to  them 

than  to  the  Jews,  xv.  247. 
Pahlen,  v.  161. 
Paine,  Th.,  xx.  6,  xxiv.  160. 
Painting,     modern,    criticized, 

xxii.  225. 
Pakhom,  xvii.  453. 
Pilkhtin,   Ivan  Vasilevich,  xii. 

199. 
Palmerston,    iii.   393,   iv.   169, 

177,  241. 
Pamphylius,  xix.  11. 
Panamaists,  xxiii.  156. 
Pdnin,  vi.  306. 
Pankrc4t,  xii.  246. 
Pantheism,  ii.  195. 
Parable,  why  Christ  spoke  in, 

xiv.  197  ;'  truths,  xvii.  359 ; 

Three  Parables,  xxiii.  69. 
Paramonovna,  xii.    243  ;    xvii. 

61. 
Pardsha,  xii.  243  ;  xvii.  88. 
Parf^n  Denisych,  x.  173. 
Parker,  xxiii.  461. 
Parley,  iv.  334. 
Parm^n  Ei'milych,  xxiii.  98. 
Parmi^^aov,  V^nka,  x.  60. 


Pascal,  xvi.  113,  257,  379,  xvii, 
225,  XX.  503,  xxii.  200,  361, 
537. 

Pashenka,  i.  464. 

Pashtetski,  ii.  337. 

Paskudin,  x.  69. 

Passek,  ii.  511,  xxi.  253. 

Passions,  respected  in  society, 
xiii.  8 ;  sexual,  confusing, 
xviii.  449;  struggle  with 
the,  454. 

Passy,  Frederic,  xx.  129. 

Patriotism,  Christianity  and 
Patriotism,  xx.  383  ;  hypoc- 
risy of  manifestations  of, 
407 ;  artificially  fostered, 
424  ;  defined,  431  ;  impos- 
sible for  a  Christian,  433 ; 
is  slavery,  438 ;  means  for 
creating,  440 ;  destroyed  by 
fearlessness  of  opinion,  456; 
Patriotism  or  Peace,  469  ;  war 
produced  by,  472 ;  there  is 
no  good,  xxiii.  143 ;  Patriot- 
ism and  Government,  143 ; 
artificially  fanned,  147  ;  uni- 
versal military  service  due 
to,  150;  bestialization  pro- 
duced by,  151 ;  evils  of,  402  ; 
in  support  of  persecutions, 
405. 

Patsan,  ii.  ,526. 

Patti,  X.  468,  xxii.  313. 

Paul,  St.,  his  misunderstand- 
ing of  Christianity,  xiii.  447, 
XV.  376 ;  and  government, 
xix.  497. 

Paul  I.,  vii.  201,  viii.  352,  xix. 
504,  XX.  321,  xxiii.  156,  169. 

Paulicians,  xxiii.  123,  334. 

Pilulson,  xix.  446. 

Paulucci,  vii.  61. 

P^vel  Dmitrievich,  iii.  9. 

Peace,  hypocrisy  of  professions 


INDEX 


379 


of,  XX.  899;  483.  See  also 
Arbitration,  Hague  Confer- 
ence, Patriotism. 

Peasants,  sympathy  for,  ii.  4 ; 
love  for,  70;  just  such  people 
as  anybody  else,  iii.  300 ; 
reform  (by  Pierre),  vi.  147 ; 
interest  in  the  (Xikolily's), 
viii.  370 ;  chief  element  of 
the  estate,  370 ;  their  bliss- 
ful ignorance,  xiii.  81 ;  life 
of,  xvii.  191 ;  ^A■retched^ess 
of  the  life  of,  xix.  204  ;  gulf 
between  them  and  the 
wealthy,  241 ;  classified,  274; 
their  love  of  foreigners,  xx. 
417 ;  causes  of  their  dejec- 
tion of  spirit,  xxii.  511  ; 
their  economic  well-being 
rises  as  soon  as  they  are 
freed  from  the  church,  513 ; 
their  spirit  should  be  raised, 
513  ;  their  wretchedness  due 
to  spiritual  condition,  515; 
to  be  treated  fairly,  516; 
neglected  by  economists, 
xxiv.  18. 

Pedagogy,  has  no  criterion,  iv. 
28 ;  its  only  criterion  is 
liberty,  29  ;  removes  influence 
of  life,  107.  See  also  Educa- 
tion. 

Pelag^a,  xix.  13. 

Pelag^yushka,  vi.  170. 

Pelissier,  ii.  407. 

Pellico,  Silvio,  xvi.  356. 

Penances,  xiii.  393. 

Penmanship,  teaching  of,  iv. 
281. 

Perevly^sski,  iv.  288,  xii.  271. 

Perfection,  desire  for,  i.  261  ; 
vi.  251 ;  belief  in,  xiii.  7 ; 
xvi.  474  ;  in  purity  and  love, 
xviii.    460 ;    xix.    140 ;    the 


ideal  of  Christianity,  .370; 
Christ's  infinite,  xx.  90  ;  de- 
fined, xxiii.  436 ;  to  be  ap- 
proached, not  reached,  467  ,• 
of  self,  531  ;  true  progi-css 
possible  only  with  internal 
moral,  xxiv.  123. 

Pernetti,  vii.  308. 

Peronski,  vi.  279. 

Perpetuation  of  human  race 
not  a  necessity,  xviii.  341. 

Persecution,  of  Christians,  as 
mentioi.ed  by  Christ,  xvi. 
154 ;  of  a  Christian  a  call 
for  him  to  execute  his  life's 
work,  219;  religious,  xxiii. 
311,  353  ;  governmental.  IM. 

Personality,  the  good  of,  guides 
the  men  of  the  world,  xvi. 
255 ;  the  renunciation  of 
the  good  of,  the  law  of 
human  life,  297  ;  the  animal, 
an  instrument  of  life,  301  ; 
the  demand  of,  seems  incom- 
patible with  the  demand  of 
rational  consciousness,  315  ; 
to  be  subjected  to  the  rational 
consciousness,  318 ;  and 
truth,  xix.  168. 

Pest,  ii.  340. 

Pestalozzi,  iv.  10,  51,  xii.  276. 

Pestsov,  X.  213. 

Peter  I.,  vii.  312,  xiii.  441,  xix. 
175,  332,  504.  xx.  237,  451. 

Peter  II.,  xix.  504. 

Peter  III.,  xix.  504,  xx.  225, 
247,  xxiii.  169. 

Peter,  xi.  322  ;  xvii.  7  ;  xviii. 
58;  — ,  Dmltrievich,  xi. 
243 ;  — ,  Geiiisimovich,  xxi. 
29;  — ,  Tgndtich.  x.  444  ;  — , 
Tgndtych,  xviii.  83  ;  — ,  Iv;in- 
ovicli,  iii.  340;  xii.  1H7  ; 
xviii.   4;  — ,    Mikhdylovich, 


380 


INDEX 


iv.  230  ;  — ,  Petrdvich,  xvii . 
35 ;  xviii.  25. 

P6tka,  iv.  238  ;  297  ;  328. 

P^tlin,  xxii.  72. 

Petrishchev,  xviii.  188 ;  Dmitri 
Ivanovich,  32. 

Petritski,  ix.  182. 

Petrov,  iii.  209;  viii.  279;  ix. 
280;  ix.  350;  x.  269;  xi. 
257;  xxi.  493;  xxii.  23; 
Ivdn,  XX.  45. 

Petrovich,  xxiii.  98, 

Petnikha,  xx.  317. 

Petriisha,  v.  59. 

Petrushka,  iii.  84  ;  v.  169  ;  xix. 
445. 

Petrusliov,  ii.  379. 

Pfuel,  vii.  53. 

Pharisee,  the  Orthodox,  xiv. 
113;  Jesus  discourses  with 
the,  XV.  10;  196;  who  they 
are,  204 ;  teacliing  of  tlie, 
xvi.  246  ;  live  for  the  future 
life,  256  ;  hypocrisy  of  the, 
XX.  354  ;  xxiii.  463,  473. 

Phidias,  xxii.  291. 

Philanthropy,  plan  of,  xvii.  18  ; 
its  activity  stupid,  58  ;  Syu- 
taev's  view  of,  78. 

Philippines,  xxiii.  444. 

Philo,  XV.  371. 

Philosophy,  of  life  (Eroshka's), 
ii.  163 ;  real,  xiii.  34 ;  of 
the  spirit,  xvii.  225  ;  cannot 
establish  any  relation  to  the 
world,  xix.  524 ;  criticized, 
xxiv.  109. 

Physics,  Stories  from,  xii.  137- 

Pictet,  xxii.  164. 

Pierre,  v.  12. 

Pilate,  Christ  before,  xv.  333. 

Pilo,  Mario,  xxii.  167. 

Pimen  Timof6ich,  xii.  43. 

PImochka,  iii.  150. 


Pisarev,  iv.  132. 

Pissaro,  Camille,  xxii.  225. 

Plato,  iv.  9,  346,  ix.  66,  xv. 
361,  371,  xvi.  359,  395,  xvii. 
145,  xix.  370,  525,  xx.  119, 
138,  xxii.  185,  194,  496. 

Platon,  xi.  375;  xvi.  181;  and 
see  Karatdev. 

Pldtov,  Matvy^y  Ivdnych,  vi. 
178. 

Ploughman,  a  bad,  xix.  154. 

Plutarch,  xxii.  196. 

Pobyedonostsev,  xxiii.  518. 

Poetry,  pirime  mover  in  human 
activity,  iii.  155 ;  modern 
French,  criticized,  xxii.  213; 
Russian,  criticized,  xxiii.  293. 

Pogodin,  iv.  293,  316. 

Polenz,  W.  von.  Introduction  to 
W.  lum  Polenz's  "  Der  Biitt- 
nerbauer,"  xxiii.  287. 

Poles,  vii.  12,  xx.  250,  xxiii. 
148;  Letter  to  a  Pole,  402. 
See  also  Krasinski,  Mickie- 
wicz,  Towianski. 

Polikiishka,  iii.  391. 

Political  activity,  its  usefulness 
not  recognized  by  all  men, 
xvii.  209. 

Political  economy,  fallacy  of, 
xvii.  107 ;  an  apology  for 
violence,  125 ;  conceals  the 
connection  of  phenomena, 
147  ;  its  aim  to  keep  people 
in  superstition,  149 ;  criti- 
cized, xxiv.  105. 

Polonski,  xxiii.  293. 

Polozov,  iii.  157. 

Poltavski,  X.  69. 

Polynesian  Company,  xvii.  114. 

Pomorski,  xi.  259. 

Poniatowski,  vii.   267. 

Poor,  the,  blessed  are  the,  xiv. 
158;  the  rich   and,  207;   in 


INDEX 


381 


spirit,  209  ;  have  the  king- 
dom of  God,  216  ;  and  the 
supper,  882  ;  get  the  king- 
dom of  heaven,  390 ;  lead 
just  such  a  life  as  everybody 
else,  xvii.  26 ;  of  Rzhdnov 
House,  37;  cause  of  inability 
to  help  them,  169  ;  wretched- 
ness of,  171 ;  debauchery  of, 
182. 

Pope  and  socialism,  xix.  374. 

Popov,  xxiv.  139. 

Popular  Will,  the,  xxii.  26. 

Populists,  xxii.  14. 

Port  Arthur,  xxiii.  166,  444; 
xxiv.  26. 

Positivism,  criticized,  231 ;  its 
resemblance  to  the  church- 
Christian  creed,  235 ;  xxiii. 
521. 

Potdp,  xxiii.  567. 

Potemkin,  v.  160. 

Potocki,  vii.  17. 

Poverty,  early  conception  of,  i. 
157  ;  enjoined  by  Christ,  x. 
166;  its  cause  in  Russia,  x. 
380 ;  preached  by  the  Gos- 
pel, xiv.  416 ;  enjoined  by 
Christ,  xvi.  169;  of  city  and 
country,  xvii.  4;  heljiful  in 
struggle  with  passions,  xviii. 
454 ;  and  marriage,  502 ;  of 
peasants  due  to  luxury  of 
the  rich,  xix.  237;  luxury 
of  the  rich  cause  of  the,  of 
the  masses,  321, 

Power,  exercised  for  evil,  i. 
86 ;  evil  consequences  of, 
88  ;  defined,  viii.  446  ;  when 
it  is  no  violence,  xix.  116; 
civil,  in  collusion  with  the 
church,  XX.  85  ;  defined,  171 ; 
corrupting  influence  of,  172  ; 
history  of,  174. 


Pozdnyshev,  xviii.  318. 

Pozen,  xxi.  373. 

Practical  men  needed  in  Russia, 
iv.  138. 

Practice  defined,  xviii.  164. 

Praskukhin,  ii.  338. 

Praskiitka,  iv.  280. 

Prayer,  Natdsha  afl^ected  by, 
vii.  106 ;  Karatdev's,  viii. 
65  ;  not  in  words,  illustrative 
story,  The  Three  Hermits,  xii. 
363 ;  of  a  personal  being, 
xvi.  410  ;  aid  from,  xix.  107; 
temporary,  xxii.  452  ;  hourly, 
454 ;  supplicatory,  meaning- 
less, xxiii.  473;  true,  474; 
Tolstoy's,  476 ;  and  see,  xiv. 
272,  XV.  110,  xvi.  431,  xxiii. 
522. 

Prayer-book  criticized,  xvi.  179. 

Prdvdin,  ix.  171. 

Predetermination,  v.  361,  vii. 
6. 

Pregnancy,  irritability  in 
Lise's,  V.  37 ;  and  nursing 
woman's  salvation,  xviii, 
357. 

Pre-Raphaeli{es,  x.  359. 

Pressens^,  E.  de,  xx.  66. 

Prevost,  Marcel,  xxii.  211. 

Pride  in  art,  xxii.  211. 

Priest,  what  an  honest,  should 
do.  Letter  to  an  Orthodox 
Priest,  xxiii.  493. 

Princess,  xviii.  188. 

Principles,  value  of,  xix.  126. 

Printing,  its  effect  on  educa- 
tion, iv.  25;  no  advantage  to 
the  masses,  169;  disadvan- 
tages of,  xxiii.  291;  advan- 
tages of,  322. 

Pripdsov,  ix.  40. 

Prison  scenes,  xvi.  476,  xxi. 
154. 


382 


INDEX 


Prisoner  of  the  Caucasus,  The, 
xii.  92;  in  Tolstoy's  opinion, 
xxii.  303. 

Procreation  of  children  not 
fornication,  xviii.  457. 

Prodigal  son,  parable  of,  xv. 
88. 

Production,  factors  of,  xvii. 
101. 

Professors,  impressions  about, 
i.  292  ;  their  haughty  atti- 
tude, iv.  123 ;  seldom  liked 
by  students,  133. 

Programme  for  popular  schools 
impossible,  iv.  78. 

Progress,  Progress  and  the 
Definition  of  Education,  iv. 
152;  not  necessary,  156; 
defined,  161 ;  not  a  fact  with 
all  humanity,  162  ;  does  not 
lead  to  well-being,  163;  an 
evil,  167 ;  introduced  into 
China  by  means  of  powder 
and  cannon,  168;  the  Russian 
believers  and  unbelievers  in, 
168 ;  faith  in,  xiii.  13 ;  has 
not  improved  labourers'  con- 
dition, xvii.  258 ;  the  end  of 
humanity  not  material,  xxiii. 
330 ;  modern,  at  the  price 
of  morality,  xxiv.  98 ;  and 
cheapness  of  life,  99 ;  and 
slavery,  99. 

Prokofi,  ix.  43  ;  xx.  416. 

Prdnka,  iv.  249. 

Proofs  of  the  truth  of  the 
teaching,  xv.  3. 

Property,  chief  characteristic 
of  men,  iv.  389  ;  xiv.  282  ; 
an  evil,  396 ;  the  root  of 
evil,  xvii.  318;  defined,  321  ; 
Dukhobors  admonished  not 
to  have  any,  xxiii.  345. 

Prophecy  defined,  xxiii.  54. 


Prophet,  Dumas  a,  xxiii.  53. 

Proselytisni,  xix.  164. 

Prostitutes,  of  Rzhanov  House, 
xvii.  41;  defined,  335;  so- 
ciety, xxi.  443. 

Prostitution,  houses  of,  main- 
tained by  the  government, 
xviii.  323 ;  described,  xxi. 
14. 

Proudhon,  xiv.  109. 

Proverbs,  and  Tolstoy's  author- 
ship, iv.  192;  profound 
wisdom  (Karatdev's),  viii. 
68. 

Prozorovski,  vi.  141. 

Prut,  xii.  198. 

Prydkhin,  iii.  115. 

Pryaniclinikov,  vi.  234  ;  Vdsya, 
X.  240. 

Przazdziecki,  vi.  341. 

Przebyszewski,  v.  430. 

Pseudo-Christianity  defined, 
xvi.  186. 

Psychics,  xvi.  234. 

Public  Isctvu-es,  a  school  with- 
out interference  in  educa- 
tion, iv.  143  ;  their  superior- 
ity over  school,  144. 

Public  opinion,  changing  for 
the  better,  xvii.  326 ;  made 
by  women,  329 ;  in  the 
hands  of  women,  xviii.  489  ; 
distorted  b^'  violence,  xx. 
261;  Christian,  opposed  to 
violence,  277  ;  maintains  the 
governments,  445 ;  can  be 
overcome  by  fearlessness 
alone,  450. 

Publican,  parable  of  the,  and 
the  Pharisee,  xiv.  144. 

Pugaohev,  viii.  447,  xi.  395, 
xvii.  242,  xix.  504,  xx.  225, 
247,  321,  xxii.  530,  xxiii.  156, 
xxiv.  132. 


INDEX 


OQO 

OOO 


Punishment,  how  a  child  is 
aifected  by,  i.  200,  211 ;  of 
pupils  wrong,  iv.  236 ;  evil 
effects  of,  238  ;  reacts  on 
the  punisher,  vi.  162  ;  pub- 
lic, its  effect  upon  the  crowd, 
vii.  257 ;  of  criminals,  vii. 
498  ;  there  are  no,  xiv.  339  ; 
capital,  a  horrible  blunder, 
xvii.  15;  wrong,  xix.  180; 
does  not  attain  its  purpose, 
xxi.  472 ;  increases  crime, 
xxii.  80. 

Pushkin,  criticized,  iv.  271  ; 
flatters  our  freaky  irritabil- 
ity, 345  ;  not  as  fine  as  pop- 
ular songs,  345 ;  criticized, 
xxii.  252  ;  as  viewed  by  the 
masses,  312;  see  also,  i.  450, 
iii.  106;  iv.  132,  171,  172, 
262,  270,  344,  xvii.  252,  391, 
xxii.  301,  xxiii.  293. 

Pushkin,  Vasili  Lvovich,  vii. 
249. 

Puvis  de  Chavannes,  xxii. 
226,  253,  309. 

Pyevtsov,  xi.  301. 

Pypin,  XX.  22. 

Pythagoreans,  xix.  523. 

Quakers  and  non-resistance, 
XX.  4;  xxiii.  123,  306,  334. 

Quarrels  in  marital  life  un- 
avoidable, xviii.  344,374. 

Qiuistions,  xii.  183. 

Quibbles,  xix.  171. 

IIaca,  explained,  xvi.  07. 
I\;idlslichev,  xxii.  530. 
Pvaevski,  I.  r.,  vii.  76  ;  xix.  282. 
llagozliinski,     Nattllya      Ivdii- 

ovna,  xxi.  459. 
Rjgozdv,    Ivdn    Ivdnovich,  xi. 

391. 


Railways,  and  the  labourers, 
iv.  274  ;  peasants  opposed 
to,  176;  advantages  of, 
xxiii.  326 ;  work  on  the, 
xxiv.  5. 

Ramball,  vii.  518. 

Rameau,  vii.  210. 

Rdntsev,  P^nillya,  xxii.  45. 

Raphael,  ix.  176,  x.  357,  361, 
xxii.  228,  251,  253,  307. 

Rapp,  vii.  317. 

Raskolnikov,  xix.  354. 

Ravaisson,  xxii.  164. 

Razin,    St^nka,    iii.    88,    xxii 
315,  530,  xxiv.  113. 

Razoumovsky,  v.  95. 

Reading,  methods  of  teaching, 
iv.  32,  42 ;  and  education 
not  identical,  35 ;  all  meth- 
ods good  and  bad,  51 ;  new 
methods  a  failure,  54 ;  how 
to  teach  Russian,  57;  method 
of  teaching  mechanical,  2(51 ; 
graded,  269  ;  wrong  methods 
of  instruction,  271. 

Reality,  our  spiritual  ego  the 
only,  xvi.  413. 

Reason  defined,  xiv.  25  ;  is  tiie 
law  according  to  which  life 
is  accomplished,  xvi.  275 ; 
the  voice  of  reason,  now 
stronger  than  faitli,  401; 
given  us  to  serve  God,  440  ; 
and  tlie  animal  life,  474 ; 
xix.  94;  and  love,  181;  rea- 
son and  religion  are  iden- 
tical, XX.  461  ;  and  faith, 
Three  Letters  on  Reason, 
Faith,  and  Prayer,  xxiii. 
464  ;  the  only  guide;  in  faith. 
469 ;  man's  fundamental 
faculty,    xxiv.    81. 

Recruiting  scenes,  xx.  313. 

Redbeard,  Ragnar,  xxii.  314. 


384 


INDEX 


Redder,  xxi.  133. 

Redemption,  absurdity  of  the 
dogma,  xiii.  244. 

Redon,  xxii.  22*6. 

Red  tape  of  governmental 
offices,  X.  78. 

Reestablishment  from  death 
explained,  xv.  176. 

Reflection  defined,  xiv.  25. 

Reforms  proposed  by  Tolstoy, 
To  the  Tsar  and  His  Associ- 
ates, xxiii.  479. 

Refusal  to  do  military  service, 
see  Military  service. 

Regnier,  xxii.  224. 

Reid,  xxii.  168. 

Relations,  that  cannot  be  de- 
fined by  law,  iv.  87;  between 
the  sexes,  their  two  func- 
tions, xviii.  440. 

Relics,  straw-stuffed,  of  Kiev, 
xv.  360. 

Religion,  Tolstoy's  earliest 
attitude  toward,  i.  20,  45, 
47 ;  the  only  lawful  and 
sensible  basis  of  education, 
iv.  115;  compulsion  in  re- 
ligious education  natural, 
116  ;  not  the  basis  of  educa- 
tion, xii.  289  ;  an  obfusca- 
tion  of  the  meaning  of  life, 
xiii.  57  ;  and  the  question  of 
life,  81 ;  xix.  78  ;  Religion 
and  Morality,  517 ;  not  the 
result  (<f  superstitious  fear, 
517  ;  an  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion of  life,  520 ;  an  expres- 
sion of  man's  relation  to  the 
world,  520  ;  three  relations 
of,  521  ;  defined,  xx.  98 ; 
resulting  from  three  differ- 
ent life  conceptions,  90  ; 
identical  with  reason.  Rea- 
son and   Religion,  461  ;    and 


art,  xxii.  186  ;  ancient,  365  ; 
insufliciency  of  ancient,  366  ; 
state,  necessarily  bad,  xxiii. 
21  ;  What  Is  Religion  ?  xxiv. 
77  ;  various  concepts  of,  77  ; 
regarded  useless  by  science, 
79  ;  an  irremovable  condition 
of  life,  82  ;  Jewish,  Greek, 
and  Brahmin  concepts  of, 
83  ;  the  establishment  of 
man's  relation  to  God,  83 ; 
stages  in  its  development,  84 ; 
its  f  iiiulameutal  property  the 
equality  of  man,  86  ;  its  de- 
generation, 87 ;  and  faith, 
their  difference,  94 ;  the 
true,  117;  defined,  119;  its 
truths  are  simple,  119;  the 
only  salvation,  120.  See  also 
Faith. 

Religious,  comprehension  not 
scientific,  xix.  527 ;  con- 
sciousness, the  basis  of  art, 
xxii.  208;  — ,  an  indicator 
of  progress,  291  ;  doubts, 
first  instance  of,  i.  203  ;  feel- 
ing, early,  i.  144 ;  instruc- 
tion, what 't  should  be,  xxiii. 
380  ;  On  Religious  Toleration, 
xxiii.  299  ;  there  is  no,  toler- 
ation in  Russia,  519. 

Renan,  xiii.  187,  xiv.  and  xv. 
passim,  xvi.  38,  xvii.  330,  xx. 
50,  93,  xxii.  145. 

Renoir,  xxii.  226. 

Renunciation,  difficult,  xv.  270; 
in  the  sermon  on  the  mount, 
xvi.  10. 

Repentance,  illustrative  story, 
God  Sees  the  Truth,  hut  Does 
Not  Tell  at  Once,  xii.  72  ;  xvi. 
113 ;  must  precede  actions, 
xvii.  293;  illustrative  legend, 
The    Repentant    Sinner,  xvii. 


INDEX 


385 


444;  force  of,  The  Potcer  of 
Dni-kness,  xviii.  83 ;  xix.  82, 
170 ;  illustrative  story,  Mas- 
ter and  Workman,  423  ;  xxiii. 
57. 

Repnin,  v.  481. 

Resistance,  to  evil  defended  by 
conservative  Christians  and 
atheistic  revolutionists,  xvi. 
37;  passive,  xx.  229  ;  punish- 
ment for  passive,  231 ;  to  the 
government,  xxii.  539  ;  pas- 
sive, enjoined,  xxiv.  66.  See 
also  Non-resistance. 

Resurrection,  the,  proves  noth- 
ing, XV.  354 ;  not  taught  by 
Christ,  xvi.  121;  foreign  to 
the  Jews,  12.'i:  absurd,  xix. 
88 ;  Resurrecliouy  xxi.  3  ;  and 
see  XV.  63,  176. 

Reuss,  xiv.  18  et  passim. 

Revelation,  and  the  religions, 
xi.  406;  defined,  xiv.  11; 
not  expressed  in  books,  13 ; 
XX.  378  ;  not  infallible,  xxii. 
483. 

Reveries,  i.  200,  257,  368,  397, 
ii.  68,  75,  90,  213,  406,  iii. 
54.     See  also  Dreams. 

Reville,  A.,  xxiv.  83. 

Revolution,  defined,  xvi.  220; 
ineffective,  xxii.  531 ;  does 
not  cliange  the  existing  order, 
xxiii.  409. 

Revolutionists,  difference  be- 
tween them  and  Christians, 
xix.  120;  and  non-resistance, 
XX.  49;  analyzed,  xxii.  19; 
Letter  to  a  Revolutionist,  xxiii. 
.387;  .521. 

Revue  des  Revues,  xx.  141,  xxiii. 
43. 

Reward,  there  is  no,  and  no 
punishment,    xiv.    339;     in 


tlie    kingdom    of    God,    xv. 
78. 

Rhodes,  xxiii.  156. 

Rich,  the,  heartlessness  of,  iii. 
241 ;  and  the  poor,  xiv.  207  ; 
and   the   supper,   382;    man 
and  Lazarus,  parable  of,  397 
of,  man  and  of  riches,  406 
enjoyment     of,     xvii.     183 
thoughtlessness  of,  184;  life 
of,    in    the    country,    189:    a 
separate  caste,  xix.  242;  life 
of,    xxiii.     197;    tlieii-    false 
economic     ideas,     xxiv.    21. 
See  also  Wealth. 

Richard,  Henry,  xx.  128. 

Richet,  XX.  351. 

Riiif/  of  the  Nihelung,  contents 
of  the,  xxii.  348. 

Riots,  how  they  are  settled ; 
XX.  286  ;  On  the  Street  Riots, 
xxiii.  500. 

Rites,  desti'uction  of  tiie,  xiv. 
121. 

Ristich-Kudzhitski,  x.  424. 

Robber,  the,  on  the  cross, 
xvi.  4. 

Robespierre,  xix,  518,  xx.  247. 

Robinson  Crusoe,  iv.  262,  270. 

Robinson,  Sir,  xvii.  117. 

Rob  Roy,  i.  348. 

Rod,  E.',  XX.  100. 

Rodbertus,  xxiv.  27. 

Rogozhlnski,  Ignati  Nikiforo- 
vich,  xxi.  461. 

Roland,  ix.  8. 

Rolandd,ki,  x.  98. 

Ronuui,  iii.  412. 

Ronulslika,  iv.  278. 

Rosenkampf,  vi.  242. 

Roseukranz,  i.  472;  xxii.  161. 

Rossi,  X.  361,  xxii.  281. 

Rossini,  xxii.  259. 

Rostand,  xxii  238. 


386 


INDEX 


Rostopchfn,  vi.  19. 
Rost6vs,  tlie,  V.  52. 
Rousseau,  iv.  10,  159,  221,  355, 
viii.  392,  423,  xvii.  225,  xix. 
138,  518,  xxiv.  114. 
Rozdnov,  i.  297. 
Rozovski,  xxii.  23. 
Rtlshchev,     iii.     95;    M^rya 

Evgenievna,  ix.  334. 
Rubeus,  x.  361. 

Rudiments,  methods  of  teach- 
ing the,  iv.  32  ;  defined,  34. 
Ruge,  Arnold,  xxii.  161. 
Rulers,  see  Government. 
Rules,  of  life,  i.  268  ;  of  action, 

ii.  7. 
Rumyantsev,  v.  22. 
Rural  Messenger,  xx.  384,  403. 
Russia,  her  army  disliked  by 
the    Cossacks,    ii.    101;    her 
condition  as  regards  popular 
education,    iv.    26;    and  dis- 
armament,   xxiii.    153;    and 
its  taxes,  xxiv.  40. 
Russian,  peasants  disliked  by 
Cossacks,    ii.    102 ;    aljjhabet 
superior    to    any   other,    57; 
self-consciousness,     vii.     64 ; 
personification  of  a,  in  Kara- 
tdev,    viii.    66 ;    masses    and 
their  destiny,  x.  163;  peasant 
children,     their     superiority 
over    the    German    children, 
xii.  281;    the  masses    speak 
good,   281 ;   Russian    Wealth, 
XX.  509. 
Ryabinin,     Mikhail     Ignd,tich, 

*ix.  250. 
Rybnikov,  iv.  346. 
Ryepnln,  xxi.  141. 
Ryeziin,  Fedor,  iii.  411. 
Ryezun6v,  Fedor,  x.  163. 
Ryly^ev,  iv.  132. 
JK.zhdnov  Fort,  xvii.  24. 


Sabbath   rejected   by   Christ, 

xiv.  118. 
Sdblin,  iii.  109. 

Sacred    history,  to  be  studied 
from    first    source,    iv.    54 ; 
teaching,  296,  307. 
Sacraments,      criticized,      xiii. 

374. 
Sacrifice    proof    of    sincerity, 

xvii.  417. 
Sadducees,  xv.  195,  204. 
Sadko,  xxi.  108. 
St.  Jerome,  i.  172. 
St.  Pierre,   Bernardin   de,  xix. 

518. 
Saintly  fool,  i.  20. 
Sdken,  xxiii.  441. 
Sakh^tov,    Se]-gy6y    Ivdnovich, 

xviii.  188. 
Sakya-Muni,     xiii.     38,     xxii. 

232. 
Salamdntov,  xxi.  135. 
Salisbury,  xx.  225,  470,  xxiii. 

156. 
Saltykov,  vii.  31 ;  xii.  236. 
Salvation  Army,  xix.- 105,  xx. 

83. 
Saradnov,  xxi.  346. 
Samdrin,  xxiii.  303. 
Sand,  George,  iv.  272. 
S^nin,  Marie,  xi.  283. 
Sapronov,  Demy  an,  xix.  283. 
Sar  Peladan,  xxii.  167. 
Sary-Azman,  xii.  125. 
Sjlsha,  X.  356,  xviii.  163. 
SdshkaB.,  ii.  92;  iii.  108. 
Savage,  xx.  50. 
Savary,  v.  421. 
Sav^lich,  viii.  307. 
Sjlvin,  iv.  297. 
S^vishna,  vi.  54. 
Savonarola,  xx.  71. 
Savoska,  iv.  196. 
Savostyanov,  Audrey,  vii.  391. 


INDEX 


387 


Saz6nov,  ii.  384. 

Schasler,  xxii.  150  et  passim. 

ScheUing,  i.  221,  viii.  342,  xi. 
365 ;  xxii.  158. 

Scherer,  Auua  Pdvlovna,  v.  3 ; 
E.,  XX.  502. 

Schiller,   xxii.    158,   228,  300, 
300. 

Schlegel,  xxii.  159. 

Schleierinacher,  iv.  9,  52. 

Schmidt,  v.  244. 

Sckmitt,  Eugen  Heinricli,  Letter 
to,  xxii.  525  ;  xxiv.  62. 

Schiiasse,  xxii.  163. 

Schneider,      vii.      395 ;      253  ; 
Sasha,  xxii.  227. 

Schools,  scenes,  i.  1,  185,  280 ; 
stupefy  children,  iv.  14 ;  es- 
tablished for  sake  of  teachers, 
15  ;  physical  injury  caused  by 
them,    17 ;    pedagogical  lab- 
oratories, 19 ;  their  purpose 
defined,  20;  why  they  have 
grown    worse,  20 ;    of   Mar- 
seilles, 21 ;  of  France,  Swit- 
zerland,  and    Germany,  22 ; 
popular,  in  Russia  must  de- 
velop   differently,    26 ;    pri- 
mary, their  piu-pose  in  Rus- 
sia, 41  ;    popular,    establish- 
ment  of,  60 ;    definition  of, 
67  ;  boarding,  criticized,  117 
fashionable,   criticized,  117 
elementary,   criticized,   120 
gymnasiums  criticized,  121 
their  non-interference  in  edu 
cation,    143 ;    defined,    143 
their    aim    transmission    of 
information,  136  ;  The  School 
at  Ydsnaya  Polydna,  225 ;  as 
viewed  by  the  peasants  and 
by  the  authorities,  xii.  300 ; 
not  in  their  buildings,  301 ; 
in   the  service  of   the   rich, 


xvii.  265 ;  for  women,  xviii. 
491. 

Schopenhauer,  xi,  365,  xiii.  34, 
67,  xvi.  323,  348,  xvii.  225, 
303,  xviii.  342,  xix.  525,  535, 
xxi.  413,  xxii.  162. 

Schoss,  Luiza  Ivdnovna,  vi. 
391. 

Schubert,  xxii.  303 ;  Karl  Bog- 
ddnych,  see  Bogddnych. 

Schultz,  xxiii.  378. 

Schiilz,  iii.  187. 

Schumann,  xxii.  305. 

Schutz,  xxii.  153. 

Schwartz,  viii.  410. 

Schwarz,  xviii.  5. 

Science,  of  education  defined, 
iv.  30  ;  does  not  answer  the 
questions  of  life,  xiii.  25 ; 
experimental,  does  not  rec- 
ognize the  questions  of  life, 
26 ;  speculative,  does  not 
answer  the  questions  of  life, 
27  ;  answer  given  by  it  as  to 
the  meaning  of  life  an  iden- 
tity, 51;  its  activity  in  Eu- 
rope ridiculous,  xvi.  107 ; 
and  life,  227  ;  not  infallible, 
238  ;  false  direction  of,  249  ; 
shares  gross  views  of  the 
ignorant  concerning  life, 
251 ;  barren  concept  of  life 
in  historical  and  political, 
279 ;  false,  departs  from  the 
study  of  life  itself,  402  ;  its 
fallacy  concerning  money, 
xvii.  100  ;  its  activity  con- 
sidered harmful  by  working 
people,  214 ;  emancipated 
from  labour,  221 ;  cannot  in- 
vestigate facts  only,  227 ; 
gives  no  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion of  life,  247  ;  what  sci- 
ence has  advanced  humanity, 


388 


INDEX 


255 ;  what  it  has  accom- 
plished, 262  ;  in  the  service 
of  the  rich,  203 ;  should 
serve  the  masses,  268  ;  true, 
defined,  272;  the  highest, 
275  ;  false,  277  ;  cannot  be 
directed  to  the  harm  of  men, 
283 ;  self-renunciation  the 
share  of  the  men  of,  285 ; 
true,  defined,  286 ;  does  not 
understand  religion,  xix. 
92  ;  and  moral  activity,  145  ; 
profanation  of,  179  ;  cannot 
establish  any  relation  to  the 
world,  524 ;  defined,  525 ; 
holds  wrong  opinion  con- 
cerning religion,  529  ;  mis- 
conceptions of,  concerning 
religion,  xx.  99 ;  and  art, 
their  relations,  xxii.  333 ; 
definition  of,  333 ;  teaches 
the  immutability  of  the 
existing  order,  334  ;  experi- 
mental, discussing  questions 
of  idle  curiosity,  334 ;  the 
pride  of,  336 ;  true,  337  ;  of 
the  future,  its  duty,  338 ; 
has  departed  from  its  true 
path,  339  ;  indefiniteness  of 
the  concept,  xxiii.  44  ;  men 
of,  not  different  from  priests, 
45 ;  superstitions  of,  48 ; 
Tolstoy's  idea  about,  mis- 
understood, 73 ;  Preface  to 
Carpenter's  Article  "  Modern 
Science"  105  ;  false  methods 
of,  105 ;  superstitious  faith 
in,  106 ;  pretends  to  study 
everything,  109 ;  what  is 
true,  114;  three  methods  of 
their  transmission,  365 ; 
good  and  harmful,  365 ; 
three  kinds  of,  379  ;  applied, 
criticized,  xxiv.  108. 


Scribes,  deny  the  doctrine  of 
the  future  life,  xvi.  247; 
delusion  of  the,  248 ;  tlieir 
science  pampers  to  the  vul- 
gar, 253  ;  live  for  their  per- 
sonal good,  257  ;  xxiii.  463, 
473 ;  the  learned,  of  our  day, 
xxiv.  Ill;  the  errors  of  the 
modern,  112. 

S(^bastiani,  viii.  119. 

Security  of  life,  its  deception, 
xvi.  i67. 

Sedmory^tski,  vi.  142. 

Seek  ye  the  kingdom  of  God, 
xvi.  436,  450,  471,  478,  xxii. 
126. 

S^gur,  iv.  339. 

Sel^nin,  xxi.  398. 

Self-help  cure  for  social  dis- 
eases, xvii.  171. 

Self-renunciation,  ii.  238 ; 
taught  by  Christ,  xvi.  132 ; 
xix.  94. 

Self-restraint,  i.  370. 

Self-sacrifice,  early  instance  of, 
i.  218 ;  the  only  happines.*^, 
ii.  69;  196;  vi.  157.  - 

Semen,  iii.  317  ;  xii.  330  ;  396  ; 
481;  ix.  148;  xvii.  7;  xviii. 
189;  xix.  429;  xxi.  330; 
—  Ivanovich,  xxi.  231. 

Semenov,  i.  289  ;  x.  69 ;  S  T., 
his  peasant  stories,  xx.  506. 

Semka,  iv.  192 ;  xvii.  456 ; 
xix.  442. 

Seneca,  xix.  528,  xxii.  196. 

Sentiments,  interchange  of,  ii 
burden,  xviii.  422. 

Sereda,  Sevastyan,  ii.  358; 
KirlU,  xxii.  470. 

Serega,  iii.  270. 

Serezlia  (Ivin).  i.  81;  ix.  106; 
xvii.  48. 

Serezhka,  iv.  196. 


INDEX 


389 


S6rgi,  ii.  88. 

Sergy^y  Mikhfiylych,  iii.  284; 
—  Petrovich.  xii.  184. 

Serraou  on  the  mount,  xiv. 
207  ;  xvi.  9 ;  excluded  from 
the  Gospel  teachings,  xx. 
78 ;  xxii.  124. 

Serpukhovskoy,  iv,  403;  x. 
112. 

Servant,  greatest  is  he  who  is 
a,  to  all,  XV.  83. 

Servian  War,  xi.  338. 

Servydgin,  ii.  340. 

Sesldvin,  viii.  152. 

Sevastopol,  ii.  311;  Recollections 
from  Sevastopol,  xxiii.  33 ; 
440. 

Sexes,  misunderstanding  be- 
tween the,  xviii.  488. 

Sexual  relations,  story  dealing 
with  the.  The  Kre^^tzer  So- 
nata, xviii.  307  ;  abomination 
of  the,  344  ;  after  pregnancy 
an  abomination,  348 ;  Epi- 
logue to  the  Kreutzer  Sonata, 
4i9 ;  not  a  necessity,  419 ; 
On  the  Relation  between  the 
Sexes,  439;  when  they  are 
the  highest  manifestation  of 
life,  4.54;  they  secure  the 
possibility  of  fulfilling  the 
law,  459;  and  the  Gospel, 
474  ;  redeemed  only  by 
childbirth,  502 ;  503. 

Shaftesbury,  xxii.  155. 
Shakers,    xviii.    459,    xx.    40, 

xxiii.  306. 
Shakespeare,  iv.  160,  ix.  176, 
xii.  197,  xvii.  282,  xxii.  175  ; 
falsely  lauded,  252 ;  307. 
Sham-shemagi,  xii.  473. 
Shame,    cause    of,    in    philan- 
thropic work,  xvii.  86. 
Shamil,  i.  473. 


Shaposhnikov,  i.  282. 
Shapovillov,  viii.  101. 
Shcheglov,  xxi.  167. 
Shcherbakov,  xviii.  289  ;  Ivdn, 

xii.  376. 
Shcherbiltov,  viii.  51 ;  Tlkhon, 

viii.  180. 
Shclierbdtski,   Aleksdndr   Dmi- 

trievich,  x.  223  ;  NikoUy,  ix. 

47. 
Shchetinin,    see    Mdrya    Pdv- 

lovna. 
Sheb^k,  xviii.  39. 
Sh^nbok,  xxi.  94. 
Sherem^tev,  xix.  504. 
Shevch^nko,  ii.  525. 
Shevelev,   Eflm  Tarasych,  xii. 

409. 
Sliinshin,  v.  92. 
Shirkin,  iii.  271. 
Shishkov,  vii.  59. 
Shittoff,  vi.  127. 
Shkalik,  ii.  53. 
Shkarvan,  xxiii.  317. 
Shopov,    Georgi,    Three    Letters 

Concerning,  xxiii.  486. 
Shtdbel,  xviii.  4. 
Shtal,  ix.  335. 
Shubin,  xviii.  290. 
Shurdev,  x.  163. 
Shustdkh,  iii.  88. 
Shustova,  xxi.  270. 
Sidor,  iv.  337  ;  xii.  397. 
Sidor^nko,  xx.  42.5. 
Sidorov,  v.  285;  xxi.  211; 

Peter,  iii.  341 ;  xx.  314. 
Sienkiewicz,  xviii.  497. 
Sigonin,  x.  69. 
Sikorski,  xx.  395. 
Simon,  iii.  98. 
Sinionson,  Vladimir  Ivdnovich, 

xxii.  9. 
Simonyeh,  xii.  244. 
Simple  life,  compared  with  life 


390 


INDEX 


of  ambition,  ii.  233 ;  impos- 
sible for  people  corrupted  by 
comforts,  iv.  166 ;  Pierre's, 
viii.  136. 

Simplicity  of  expression  essen- 
tial in  education,  xii.  263. 

Sin,  Eroshka's  definition  of, 
ii.  150,  163  ;  sins,  xxii.  377  ; 
three  kinds  of,  380 ;  classi- 
fication of,  381 ;  of  lust,  381 ; 
of  idleness,  382 ;  of  greed, 
384;  of  love  of  power,  386; 
of  fornication,  387 ;  of  in- 
toxication,  390;  conse- 
quences of,  392.  Struggle 
with,  431 ;  the  consecutive- 
ness  of  the,  432 ;  how  to, 
433  ;  of  intoxication,  434  ; 
of  idleness,  438 ;  of  lust, 
441 ;  of  profit,  443  ;  of  power, 
445  ;  of  fornication,  448. 

Sincerity,  xix.  160  ;  in  artistic 
productions,  xx.  506. 

Singing  in  school,  iv.  341. 

Single  Tax,  .see  George,  Henry. 

Sinyavin,  x.  333. 

Sirin,  Isaak,  xxiii.  419. 

Sisley,  xxii.  226. 

Skepticism,  see  Religious  doubt. 

Skobelev,  xx.  451,  xxiii.  40. 

Skopin,  xii.  216. 

Skorodiimov,  x.  455. 

Skovorodnikov,  xxi.  384. 

Skublinski,  xxiii.  395. 

Skvortsov,  ii.  442." 

Slaughter  houses  described,  xix. 
399. 

Slavery,  defined,  xvi.  156; 
abolished  in  spite  of  the 
church,  188;  not  abolished, 
xvii.  155;  cause  of  misfor- 
tune, 168 ;  abolished  by  re- 
fusal to  exploit  labour,  169; 
of  the  labouring  classes,  xxiii. 


181  ;  of  the  labourers,  its 
causes.  The  Slavery  of  Our 
Time,  xxiv.  3  ;  who  the  slaves 
of  our  time  are,  32  ;  of  the 
working  people,  33 ;  abol- 
ished to  give  way  to  new 
slavery,  34  ;  what  produces 
modern,  35;  of  our  time,  what 
it  is  due  to,  43  ;  of  progress, 
99.    See  also  Enslavement. 

Slye]^ts6v,  ii.  511  ;  xxiii.  521. 

Slyudin,  ix.  318. 

Smanlgdov,  iv.  337. 

Smoking,  i.  300 ;  most  harm- 
ful, xix.  348.  .S'ee  also  Intoxi- 
cation. 

Smyelkov,  Ferapont,  xxi.  50. 

Snegirev,  iv.  192,  273. 

Snetkov,  xi.  147. 

Siiowsiorm,  The,  iii.  37 ;  in 
Master  and  Workman,  xix. 
423. 

Social  structure,  our,  bad,  xvi. 
41. 

Socialism,  criticized,  xxiv.  133  ; 
not  consistent  with  love  of 
our  neighbour,  152. 

Socialists  working  for  the  in- 
tensification of  oppression, 
XX.  222. 

Society,  disgusting  to  Ol^nin, 
ii.  262  ;  life,  infatuation  with, 
iii.  365  ;  is  stupid,  v.  42. 

Sociology,  criticized,  xxiv.  105. 

Socrates,  and  the  questions  of 
life,  xiii.  3 ;  xv.  371 ;  his 
teaching,  xvi.  104 ;  xvii.  225, 
280,  363,  384,  xix.  376,  518, 
xxii.  185,  194,  200,  313, 
361,  368. 

Socratic  method  criticized,  iv. 
326. 

Sofya  Ivdiiovna,  i.  346 ;  xxi. 
68. 


INDEX 


391 


Sokoldv,  viii.  ir?9 ;  xi.  186; 
xvii.  251  ;  xviii.  9  ;  xxi.  157  ; 
xxii.  50;}. 

Soldiers,  three  types  of,  in 
Russia,  ii.  ■482  ;  tactfuliiess  of 
Russian,  52;?;  tlieir  merri- 
ment, V.  191  ;  who  are  the, 
xxiii.  188 ;  why  people  be- 
come, 215 ;  The  Soldiers' 
Memento,  265. 

Solger,  xxii.  160. 

Solomon,  and  the  questions 
of  life,  xiii.  34;  xvi.  113, 
xvii.  280,  xxii.  368. 

Solon,  xvii.  280. 

Solovev,  iv.  172  ;  xvii.  378,  383. 

Son,  of  comprehension,  xiv. 
38  ;  is  life,  47  ;  xix.  80.  —  of 
God ;  the  words  explained, 
xiv.  20 ;  xiv.  175,  xxiii.  512. 
—  of  man,  one  with  God, 
xiii.  260;  xiv.  114,  170,  175, 
XV.  121;  coming  of  the,  123; 
is  the  light  in  which  men 
must  walk,  xvi.  105 ;  union 
with  the,    308. 

Sonichka,  i.  90. 

Sonya,  iii.  283 ;  v.  59 ;  xii. 
187. 

Sophia,  Peter  I.'s  sister,  xix. 
504. 

Sophie,  V.  127. 

Sophocles,  xxii.  253. 

Sorbier,  vii.  308. 

Sorokin,  x.  479. 

Sonntag,  iv.  308. 

Souza,  vi.  97. 

Sower,  parable  of  the,  xiv. 
283;  explained,  193. 

Spaletti,  xxii.  157. 

Spanish -American  War,  xxiii. 
1.33. 

Specialization  in  teaching  not 
good,  iv.  148. 


Spence,  Th.,xxiv.  159. 

Spencer,  Hcrbca-t,  xvi.  195 ; 
criticized,.  2:57;  249^,  419, 
xvii.  243,  xviii.  442 ;  and 
Christianity,  xix.  131  ;  xx. 
93,  xxi.  22,  413,  xxii.  148, 
168;     criticized,    xxiv.    145. 

Sper.-lnski,  vi.  228. 

Spinoza,  xi.  365,  xvii.  225,  xix. 
535,  xxii.  361. 

Spiridon  Ivilnovich.  xvii.  61. 

Spirit,  the,  of  the  school,  iv. 
298;  of  the  army,  viii.  17-1; 
defined,  xiii.  132,  xiv.  175 ; 
purification  by  the,  141  ;  the 
divine,  in  all  men,  338 ;  vic- 
tory of  the.  XV.  326;  birth 
by  the,  xvi.  304  ;  life  of  the, 
XIX.  152. 

Spiritual,  kinship,  xiv.  370  ;  life 
and  memory,  xix.  81 ;  being, 
the,  341 ;  being,  birth  of 
the,  xxii.  369 ;  being,  the, 
born  in  man,  370. 

Spiritualism,  ix.  82 ;  I'idiculed 
in  The  Fruits  of  Enliyhien- 
ment,  xviii.  187  ;  xxi.  389. 

Sponsor,  xviii.  106. 

Stael,  Madame  de,  viii.  160. 

Stakhovich,  iv.  363 ;  xxiii. 
299. 

Stank^vich,  xvii.  227. 

Starikov,  xxi.  50. 

Stdrostin,  iii.  414. 

State,  the  superstition  about 
the,  xvii.  1.50 ;  objections  to 
the  abolition  of  the,  met,  xx. 
242 ;  destroyed  by  Christian- 
ity, 242 ;  Church  and  State, 
xxiii.  11.  See  also  Govern- 
ment. 

Stavroi^ol,  ii.  96. 

Stein,  vii.  34. 

Stepan,   xxi.   134;    xxiii.   520; 


392 


INDEX 


—  Arkddevich,  ix.  4  ;  —  Vas- 
Ilevich,  xi.  IGl. 
Stepdnych,  xii.  450. 
Stepka,  ii.  178. 
Sterne,  v.  166. 
Steshka,  iii.  137;  vi.  511. 
Stevens,  v.  46. 
Stieglitz,  xvii.  94. 
Stiva,  see  Stepfln  Arkddevich. 
Strike,  universal,  xxiii.  512;  a 

military,  546. 
Stockham,  A.  Stockham's  Tokol- 
ogy,   xviii.    454,    475;     xx. 
499. 
Stoicism,  xvi.  104. 
Stoics,  their  definition  of  life, 

xvi.  244  ;  xxii.  196. 
Stolypin.  vi.  296. 
Stolz,  Sapho,  X.  99. 
Story,  Stories  for  Children,  xii. 
39  ;  difference  between,  and 
novel,  XX.  526. 
Storm  on  the  lake,  xiv.  372. 
Stowe.    Harriet  Beecher,    xxii. 

300^ 
Strdtsev,  ii.  215. 
Strauch,  v.  201. 

Strauss,  David  Friedrich,  xiv. 
passim  :    and    non-resistance, 
xvi.  38  ;  XX.  93. 
Strauss,    Richard,    xxii.     228, 

253,  309,  330. 
Str6mov,  x.  93. 
Stroganov,  v.  455  ;  xii.  124. 
Struggle     for     existence     and 

morality,  xix.  537. 
Stuck,  xxii.  223,  253,  309. 
Students,  their  life  at  the  uni- 
versity destructive,   iv.   136  ; 
in  official  careers,  139  ;   pro- 
test of,  XX.  392. 
Study,    children   fond    of,    iv. 

246. 
Stundists,  xxiii.  316. 


Submission,   disadvantages   of, 

XX.  188. 
Sue,  i.  385  ;   450. 
Suffering,     agreeable     (016nin 
and  the  gnats),  ii.  193 ;  the 
inexplicability     of     the,     of 
earthly  existence,  xvi.  383 ; 
the  cause  of,  is  the  violation 
of  the  law  of  the  life  of  the 
rational  consciousness,  386  ; 
the  result  of  sin,  389  ;  physi- 
cal, the  necessary  condition 
of  the  life  and  good  of  man, 
393 ;    necessary,    xix.    151 ; 
produces   joy,    187 ;    due   to 
disobedience  of  God,  506  ;  in 
consequence     of     contradic- 
tions of  life,  XX.  118;  death, 
xxiii.  539. 
Suggestion  the  basis  of  educa- 
tion, xxiii.  361 ;  its  part  in 
human    activity,    xxiv.    86 ; 
its  part  in  religion,  88  ;   ter- 
rible effect  of  religious,  1 14  ; 
liberation     from     religious, 
only  salvation,  116.    See  also 
Hypnotization. 

Suicide,  story  of  a.  Memoirs  of 
a  Marker,  iii.  81  ;  Polikushka, 
391 ;  in  Anna  Karenin,  xi. 
322  ;  Levin  near,  367  ;  Tol- 
stoy's thoughts  of,  xiii.  19 ; 
a  way  out,  43;  thoughts  of, 
cured  through  faith,  69 ;  as 
\dewed  by  pessimistic  philos- 
ophy, xvi.  324  ;  On  Suicide, 
xxiii.  460. 

Sukhtelen,  v.  482. 

Sully,  xxii.  170. 

Sully-Prud'homme,  xxii.  221. 

Sulzer,  xxii.  153. 

Supei-ficiality  of  the  men  of 
the  world,  i.  76. 

Superstition,  the  political,  xvii. 


INDEX 


393 


150;   of   science,  xxiii.   48; 

525. 
Supper,    parable    of    the,    xiv. 

380:  bast,  xv.  264. 
Siishkov,  ii.  .336. 
Siislikov,  ii.  336. 
Suvorov,  V.  160. 
Suyiik-su,  ii.  201. 
Sventitski,  xi.  257. 
Sviuticli,  xi.  195. 
Sviyiizhski,  Nikoldy  Ivtlnovich, 

X.  130. 
Swedes,  Letter  to  Certain,  xxiii. 

439. 
Swear,  thou  shalt  not,  xiv.  241, 

See  also  Oath. 
Switzerland,   iii.  231 ;    schools 

of,  iv.  22. 
Sy6vernikov,  xii.  200. 
Syutdev,  xvii.  78,  303,  391,  xx. 

50,  xxiv.  124. 

Tacitus,  iv.  335. 
Taglioni,  xxii.  313. 
Taine,  xxii.  148,  166. 
Talent  defined,  xx.  510. 
Talents,   parable   of   the,   xiv. 

333. 
Talleyrand,  vii.  4. 
Talmud,   xvii.   248,   293,   xix. 

526. 
Tante,  nia,  v.  10. 
Tdnya,  ix.  14 ;  xviii.  189. 
Taoism,  its  degeneration,  xxiv. 

88.     See  aha  Lao-tse. 
Tards,    iv.  380;    vii.  172;    xii. 

481 ;  xix.  444. 
Tar&ka,  iv.  235  ;  xii.  386. 
Tarde,  xxi.  107,  457,  461. 
Tartars,  i.  401,  xii.  94,  124. 
Tasso,  xxii.  253.  307. 
Tatdrinova,  viii.  406. 
Tatian,  xvii,  307. 
Tatlshchev,  i.  85. 


Tatydna  Ivflnovna,  xii.  198 ; 
—  jNIakdrovna  (and  Milr- 
kovna),  xviii.  189  ;  ' —  Se- 
menova,  iii.  326. 

Tauzik,  xii.  128. 

Taxes,  not  to  be  paid,  xv.  163  ; 
a  means  of  enslavement,  xvii. 
144  ;  refusal  to  pay,  xx.  237  ; 
levy  of,  not  justified,  xxiii. 
207  ;  their  purpose,  xxiv.  40  ; 
in  Russia,  41.  See  also  Trib- 
ute. 

Tchertkoff,  xxiii.  500. 

Teacher  (Kdrl  Ivdnovich),  de- 
scribed, i.  1  ;  schools  for  the 
sake  of  the,  iv.  15  ;  defini- 
tion of  a  good,  iv.  58  ;  re- 
muneration of  a  village,  75  ; 
meetings  advocated,  xii.  318  ; 
false,  xvi.  245 ;  a,  is  great  if 
he  tells  the  truth,  xxii.  482. 

Teachership,  Christian,  xiii. 
446. 

Teaching,  of  life,  no  man  can 
live  without  it,  xvi.  194  ;  the 
religious,  not  known  even 
to  philosophers,  249  ;  The 
Teaching  of  the  Twelve  Apos- 
tles, xix.  413.  —  of  the 
world,  cause  of  suffering, 
xvi.  155  ;  disastrous,  163  ; 
followed  by  all  men,  196 ; 
xix.  23,  55  ;  its  evil  effect 
upon  Neklilyudov,  xxi.  70. 

Telegraphs  serving  only  the 
believers  in  progress,  iv.  168. 

Telyilnin,  v.  207. 

Tely^gin,  Misha,  xxi.  134. 

Temple,  destruction  of  the  ex- 
ternal, xiv.  124. 

Temporal  power,  see  Power, 
Government,    State. 

Temptation,  Christ's,  xiv.  86  j 
of  the  city,  xvii.  71. 


394 


INDEX 


Tempter,  the  voice  of  the  flesh, 
xiv.  77. 

Ter^nti,  viii.  299  ;  x.  46. 

Tertullian,  xiii.  124,  xx.  4,  71, 
xxiii.  123. 

Thackei'ay,  xxiii.  293. 

Theatre,  description  of  a  per- 
formance in  a,  xxii.  136. 

Theology,  the  study  of,  xiii. 
86 ;  Critique  of  Dogmatic 
Theology,  93  ;  obscurity  of, 
94 ;  r6sum6  of,  431 ;  a  de- 
ception, xiv.  6. 

Theory  defined,  xvii.  165. 

Therapeutie,  xix.  523. 

Th^rese,  x.  189. 

Thiers,  iv.  335,  339,  v.  303,  vii. 
186,  viii.  123. 

Thinking  cause  of  suffering,  ii. 
316. 

Thohu  in  the  way  of  the  right 
comprehension,  xvi.  20. 

Thomas  Aquinas,  iv.  160. 

Thomas  a  Kempis,  vi.  108,  xx. 
73. 

Thoreau,  xxi.  445,  xxii.  525, 
xxiii.  208,  293,  462. 

Thought,  ciiange  of,  must  pre- 
cede change  of  feelings, 
xxiii.  57. 

Tiele,  xvi.  125,  195. 

Tikhon,  iv.  397  ;  v.  151  ;  xix. 
483  ;  xxi.  75  ;  Zadonski,  xx. 
73,  xxiii.  522. 

Tlkhonovna,  xii.  239. 

Timof6y,  iv.  194. 

Tiiuokliin,  v.  186. 

Tintoretto,  x.  343. 

Tishka,  xii.  402. 

Tit,  V.  434  ;  x.  21. 

Titian,  x.  361. 

Tolbiikhin,  Marya  Vasilevna, 
xviii.  188. 

ToU,  vii.  62. 


Tolst6y,  V.  156  ;  A.,  xxii.  252, 
xxiii.  293;  L.,  xvii.  252; 
Society  of  Manchester,  xxiii. 
491. 

Tolstoyism,  xxiii.  555. 

Topche^nko,  vi.  183. 

Toporov,  xxi.  433. 

Tormasov,  vii.  52,  viii.  241. 

Totleben,  ii.  401. 

Towianski,  xxiii.  402. 

Tradition,  definition  of,  xiii. 
102. 

Trajan,  xix.  9. 

Transvaal  War,  the,  xxiii.  154, 
164,  207  ;  Who  Is  to  Blame? 
457. 

Treasure,  laying  up  of,  xiv. 
282. 

Tredyakovski,  xvii.  391. 

Tregiibov,  I.  M.,  xxiii.  322. 

Tribute,  on,  xv.  156.  See  also 
Taxes. 

Trinity,  impossible,  xiii.  171  ; 
dogma  of  the,  rejected,  189. 

Troitski,  xx.  42. 

Trollope,  xix.  377,  xxiii.  293. 

Tros6nko,  ii.  512.         *  ■ 

Trufonov,  xviii.  31. 

Trugoni,  Lniza  Ktlrlovna,  xii. 
235. 

Trukhach^vski,  xviii.  378. 

Truth,  the  hero  of  Tolstoy's 
stories,  ii.  386  ;  defined,  iv. 
220  ;  Levin's  love  of,  x.  314  ; 
Christ  will  live  as,  xv.  308 ; 
works  of,  destroy  the  cohe- 
sion of  the  devil,  xvi.  220; 
in  describing  what  ought  to 
be,  xvii.  357  ;  is  the  teach- 
ing itself,  xix.  143  ;  struggle 
against,  152 ;  and  person- 
ality, 168 ;  defence  of  the, 
183 ;  new,  is  adopted  all  at 
once,  XX.  256  ;  man  free  to 


INDEX 


395 


recognize     the,      :^fiO ;      the 

classes  of,  3(54  ;    reveals  the 

one  path,  365  ;  defined,  xxii. 

199. 
Tuchkov,  vii.  285. 
Tvirbin,  Fedor,  iii.  107. 
Turenne,  vii.  28. 
Turg^nev,    iv.    171,   xvii.   252, 

XX.    506,  509,  xxi.  68,    xxii. 

209,  280,  505,  xxiv.  110. 
Tuika,  i.  28. 
Turovtsyn,  x.  223. 
Tiishin,  v.  281. 
Tushk^vich,  ix.  209. 
Tutolmin,  viii.  119. 
Tverskoy,  Elizaveta  Fedorovna 

(Betsv),  ix.  275. 
Tyudal,  xvii.  282. 
Tyiirik,  iii.  Si. 
Tyiitchev,  xxiii.  293. 
Tyiitkin,  xi.  321. 

U(;rovich,  ii.  353. 

Uiitka,  ii.  107. 

Union,  with  God,  xix.  123 ;  of 
men  possible  only  in  the 
truth,  XX.  351 ;  xxiii.  542. 

United  States,  see  America. 

University,  examinations  for 
entrance,  i.  283,  414 ;  not 
free,  iv.  112 ;  monstrous, 
114;  arraigned,  119,  122; 
compulsion  criticized,  124 ; 
not  needed  by  working  stu- 
dents, 135  ;  its  corrupting 
influence,  135;  trains  men 
for  society,  not  mankind, 
137;  culture  absurd,  137; 
education  not  practical,  138  ; 
a  school  with  interference 
in  education,  143. 

Unnaturalness  of  men  of  so- 
ciety, ii.  265. 

Urusov,vi.257;S.  S.,  xxiii.  441. 


Usiln,  iv.  384. 
llshinski,  xii.  271. 
Ustenka,  ii.  157. 
Ustyushka,  iii.  153. 
Uvdrka,  vi.  350. 
Uvd,rov,    Fedor    Petrovich,   vi 
23. 

Vagrants,  see  Poor. 
Vainglory,  a   characteristic  of 

men    of   the    upper   classes, 

xviii.  389. 
Vahikhiu,  i.  90. 
Valuev,  vi.  19. 
Vanity,  among    military  men, 

ii.  337 ;  of  authors,  xiii.  12. 
Vilnka,  xii.  397  ;  xviii.  311. 
Vanya,  ii.  4  ;  iii.  377  ;  xii.  41  : 

xvii.  28. 
Vanyusha,  ii.  84  ;  ix.  142. 
Vanukha,  xx.  317. 
Van-der-Veer,  xxii.  489. 
Varvdra,  x.  471 ;  —  Dmitrievna, 

i.  329  ;  —  Uinichna,  i.  80. 
Vdrenka,  i.  345  ;  ix.  336. 
Vargushov,  xxi.  541. 
Vasilchikov,  x.  156. 
Vasllev,  ii.  91  ;   xi.   109  ;    xxi. 

233. 
Vasili,  i.  141;  iii.  44;  414;  v. 

3;    ix.  241;    x.   214;    xvii. 

175  ;  —  Dmltrich,  iii.   266  ; 

—  Igndtich,  vi.  24;  —  Kar- 

lych,  xxi.  299;  — Leonidych, 

xviii.    187  ;    —   Lukich,     x. 

438  ;— Mikhdylovich,  ii.  411. 
Vasilich,  vii.  437. 
Viisin,  ii.  454. 
Va.ska,    iv.  365;    viii.  299;    x, 

22;  99;  xxiii.  179. 
Vasnetsov,  xxiii.  280. 
Vasya,  ii.  4 ;  xviii.  363  ;  481. 
Vasviik,  xxii.  106. 
Vatk6vski,  x.  427. 


396 


INDEX 


Vavllo,  iv.  248. 

Vedas,  xix.  80  ;  hymns  of  the, 
highest  art,  xxii.  282. 

Vegetariauisin,  article  on,  The 
First  Step,  xix.  oG7. 

Velenchuk,  ii.  479. 

V^nden,  ix.  204. 

Venevski,  x.  105. 

Vereshchdgin,  vii.  419. 

Vergil,  iv.  6. 

Verigin,  P.  V.,  Two  Letter's  to 
the  Leader  of  the  Dukhohors, 
xxiii.  322. 

Verlaine,  xxi.  216,  xxii.  219, 
253,  313. 

Verne,  Jules,  xvii.  258. 

Veron,  xxii.  151,  166. 

Veselovski,  iv.  68 ;  Vdsenka, 
X.  30. 

Vence,  xiv.  18. 

Vignesse,  v.  336. 

Villier  de  I'lsle,  Adam,  xxii. 
228. 

Villiers,  v.  421. 

Vinci,  xxii.  228. 

Vinet,  xiii.  334,  xxi.  413. 

Vineyard,  parable  of  the,  xv. 
91. 

Vinnikov,  xviii.  4. 

Vinovski,  Peter  Ilich,  xi.    211. 

Violence,  in  causing  child  to 
comprehend  like  his  teacher, 
iv.  46  ;  prohibited  by  Christ 
even  against  oneself,  xviii. 
456;  no  longer  considered 
good,  XX.  197:  exercised  by 
the  bad,  250  ;  distorts  public 
opinion,  261;  does  not  sub- 
jugate other  nations,  263; 
prerogatives  gained  through, 
294 ;  and  love  incompatible, 
xxiii.  388 ;  breeds  violence, 
500 ;  harmf ulness  of,  527 ; 
and    educated    people,    538 ; 


governmental,  not  destroyed 
by  external  means,  539 ; 
rejected,  xxiv.  3 ;  always 
used  by  those  vv'ho  possess 
things,  54 ;  has  no  justifica- 
tion, 56 ;  wiiy  the  majority 
submits  to,  59 ;  in  every 
shape  to  be  renounced,  71  ; 
ancient  means  of  opposing, 
132. 

Virgins  and  the  lamps,  parable 
of  the,  XV.  118. 

Virtue  according  to  pagan  and 
Christian  concepts,  xix.  370. 

Vischer,  Theodor,  xxii.  161. 

Vita  Internazionale,  xxiii.  119. 

Vladimir,  xxii.  188. 

Viang,  ii.  441. 

Vldseva,  ix.  215. 

Vldsevna,  xii.  244. 

VUsov,  A.  v.,  his  prototype 
given,  xxii.  87 ;  Letter  to, 
xxiii.  447. 

Vodovozov,  iv.  273  ;  293,  316. 

Vo6ykov,  iv.  401. 

Vogel,  vi.  385. 

Vogu6,  XX.  50,  166,  401,  xxii. 
315. 

Voguls,  xxii.  282. 

Volapiik,  xvi.  232,  234. 

Volkelt,  xxii.  174. 

Volkonski,  Peter  Mikhdylo- 
vich,  V.  454. 

Volodinka,  M.,  xiii.  3. 

Volodya,  i.  1 ;  ii.  408. 

Voltaire,  viii.  443,  xiii.  4,  96, 
xix.  241,  518,  xxi.  413,  xxii. 
156,  234,  xxiv.  92,  114. 

Vorchik,  ii.  305. 

Vorkiiev,  Ivdn  Petrovich,  xi. 
219. 

Vorobev,  xxi.  376. 

Vorontsov,  iii.  8, 

Voronzoff,  xxi.  280. 


INDEX 


39i 


Vdytov,  xl  301. 

Vr^de,  X.  95. 

Vrdnski,  AleksAndr,  ix.  303 ; 
Aleksy^y  KirlUovich  (Ale- 
sha),  63  ;  Kirlll  Ivdnovich,  63. 

Vydzemski,  vi.  19. 

Vyazmltinov,  Sergy6y  K  u  z  - 
mich,  V.  343. 

Vy6ra  (Rostov),  v.  64. 

Wages  not  essential  to  Russian 
peasants,  iv.  175. 

Wagner,  criticized,  xi.  205, 
xxii.  254 ;  xvii.  282,  xxii. 
215,  228,  240,  253,  259,  305, 
309,  330. 

Walter,  xxii.  152,  197. 

Wanderers,  xxiii.  316. 

War,  story,  The  Incursion,  i. 
401;  not  approved  of,  477; 
scene,  in  The  Cossacks,  ii. 
292;  stories,  Sevastopol,  311; 
The  Cutting  of  the  Forest,  477; 
Meeting  of  a  Moscoio  Ac- 
quaintance at  the  Front,  iii.  3  ; 
ridiculed,  256 ;  not  neces- 
sary, iv.  113 ;  of  1812,  327  ; 
War  and  Peace,  v.  3  ;  women 
do  not  wish  for,  37  ;  decried, 
149;  teiTible,  239;  the  re- 
sult of  numberless  causes, 
vii.  3  ;  of  1812,  3  ;  how  looked 
upon  by  women,  146  ;  criti- 
cized, 296;  its  purpose  is 
murder,  298 ;  brutality  of, 
viii.  140  ;  unchristian,  431 ; 
horrors  of,  xi.  392;  the  curse 
of,  illustrative  story,  Ivan  the 
Fool,  xii.  481 ;  and  Christian 
love,  xiii.  85 ;  wage  no,  xiv. 
263  ;  not  Christian,  xvi.  87  ; 
calamities  of,  163  ;  amd  arbi- 
tration, XX.  140;  horrors  of, 
155  ;  produced  by  patriotism, 


472  ;  abolition  of,  xxii.  496  ; 
horror  of,  xxiii.  39 ;  Two 
Wars,  133;  causes  of,  457. 
See  also  Arbitration,  Battle, 
Hague  Conference,  Military 
service,  Soldier. 

Way,  the  narrow,  xiv.  291 ; 
the,  out,  XX.  371;  Where  Is 
the  Way  Out  f  xxiii.  179. 

Wealth,  shame  of,  i.  157 ;  rouses 
Tolstoy's  ire,  iii.  234;  a 
crime,  xvii.  15 ;  true,  only  in 
the  country,  70 ;  passing 
from  the  producer  to  the 
non-producer,  71 ;  corrupting 
influence  of,  73 ;  unequal 
distribution  of,  due  to  divi- 
sion of  labour,  270.  ^ee  also 
Rich. 

Weber,  xxii.  259. 

Wei-hai-wei,  xxiii.  166. 

Weisse,  xii.  161. 

Wesleyans,  xxiii.  306. 

Wet-nurses,  harmfulness  of, 
viii.  392. 

Weyrother,  v.  273. 

Wheat  and  tares,  parable  of 
the,  xiv.  188. 

Whitman,  Walt,  xxiii.  462. 

Whittier,  xxiii.  293,  462. 

Wilde,  Oscar,  xxii.  314. 

Will,  the,  of  the  people,  xi.  391 ; 
to  do  the  Master's,  xiii.  62  ; 
freedom  of  the,  xx.  360 ;  to 
do  the,  of  Him  who  sent  us 
into  life,  xxiii.  464. 

Willarski,  vi.  108. 

William  II.,  xx.  212,  225,  411, 
477,  xxiii.  277,  4.57. 

Wilson,  J.  Jowet,  xx.  131. 

Winkelmann,  xx.  154. 

Winkler,  iv.  413. 

Wintzingerode,  v.  6. 

Wisdom  defined,  xvii.  420. 


398 


INDEX 


Without  Dnfj7na,  xviii.  487. 

Wittgenstein,  vii.  254. 

Wlocki,  vii.  144. 

Wolf,  Vladimir  Vasllevich, 
xxi.  371. 

Wolzogen,  vii.  54. 

Women,  rights,  viii.  389  ;  and 
the  question  of  life,  xiii.  41  ; 
make  public  opinion,  xvii. 
329;  power  of  child-bearing, 
330;  rights  an  absurdity, 
331 ;  childless,  an  abomina- 
tion, 332 ;  popular  concep- 
tions about,  xviii.  310 ;  of 
higher  society  prostitutes, 
330 ;  domination  of,  cause 
of  world's  suffering,  335 ; 
an  instrument  of  enjoy- 
ment, 352 ;  their  ability  to 
fascinate,  354  ;  comnumion 
with,  453  ;  to  be  the  aggres- 
sors in  sexual  relation,  476  ; 
chaste,  their  relation  to  their 
.  husbands,  478  ;  not  an  object 
of  enjoyment,  480 ;  spiritu- 
ally weaker  than  men,  487  ; 
cannot  understand  man's 
spirituality,  488 ;  cause  of 
their  badness,  489 ;  their 
sphere  of  action,  489;  rule 
men,  489 ;  their  sphere  of 
action  defined,  490 ;  physi- 
cally weak,  491 ;  their  eter- 
nal destination,  492 ;  their 
submission  to  men,  492,  496  ; 
chaste,  their  education  most 
important,  496 ;  their  des- 
tiny, 498;  their  domination, 
xxiii.  202. 

Words,  explanation  of,  useless, 
iv.  276. 

Work,  not  a  virtue,  xxiii.  51 ; 
for  science  not  necessarily 
good,  49  ;  hours  of  labourers, 


xxiv.  5,  17  ;  compulsion  to, 
37.     See  also  Labour. 

Workmen,  better  than  the 
upper  classes,  iv.  177  ;  suf- 
fering from  contradiction  of 
life,  XX.  120 ;  richness  of 
their  lives,  xxii.  209  ;  articles 
on  workmen's  condition, 
Where  Is  the  Way  Out? 
xxiii.  179  ;  Need  It  Be  So? 
195  ;  The  Only  Means,  241  ; 
life  of,  241  ;  cause  of  their 
own  calamities,  242 ;  what 
they  must  abstain  from. 
255 ;  disregard  of  their  lives, 
520  ;  and  students,  546  ;  To 
the  Working  People,  xxiv. 
131. 

Works,  with,  not  with  gold 
can  we  serve  God,  illustra- 
tive story,  Tlie  Two  Brothers 
and  the  Gold,  xii.  469  ;  serv- 
ing God  with,  not  temples, 
xiv.  132. 

Worship,  external,  a  deception, 
xiv.  5  ;  denied  by  Christ,  110. 

Writing,  teaching  of,  iy.  279. 

Wiirtemberg,  Prince  of,  vii. 
351. 

Wurst,  ix.  40,  xii.  276. 

Wyclif,  xxii.  191. 

Xenophon,  iv.  335,  xvii.  145. 

Yakov,  iii.  57  ;  xviii.  189  ;  — 
Alpatych,  xx.  31  ;  —  Mi- 
khaylich,  i.  11. 

Yakovlev,  viii.  119. 

Ydmka,  ii.  153. 

Yanzhitl,  xvii.  111. 

Ytivshvin,  ix.  275. 

Ydsnaya  Polydna  school,  iv. 
40;  teacher,  52;  The  School 
at  Ydsnaya  Polydna,  227. 


INDEX 


399 


Youth,  beginning   of,  defined, 

i.  253  ;    Youth,  253. 
Tukhvanka  the  Shrewd,  ii.  26. 
Yusupov,  vi.  305  ;  xvii.  94. 
Yusupov  "Workhouse,  xvii.  6. 

Zaccheus,  xiv.  424,  xvii.  349, 

xix.  255. 
Zakhdr,  iii.  204  ;  vi.  3  ;  —  Ivdn- 

ovich,  xviii.  25  ;  —  Ivdnych, 

ii.  439; — Nikitych,  ix.  32; 

—  Trifonych,  xviii.  199. 
Zakharch^nko,  v.  295. 
Zakhdi'ov,  xxi.  426. 
Zaletaev,  \-iii.  285. 
Zarathustra,  xxii.  409. 
Zavalsh6vski,  iii.  115. 
Ziiytsev,  ii.  435. 
Zaytsov,  see  Anna  Fedorovna. 
Zdrzinski,  vii.  76. 
Z<5yfer,  ii.  411. 
Zhdduov,  ii.  484. 
Zhdavch(5ski,  ii.  353. 
Zherkov,  v.  192. 
Zhidkov,  iii.  413. 


Zhiklnski,  xii.  198. 

Zhilin.  xii.  92. 

Zhivakliov,  xi.  273. 

Zhukovski,  i.  450,  xx.  353. 

Zhuldyba,  iv.  371. 

Zikin,  V.  229. 

ZImius,  xvii.  24. 

Zobkin,  ii.  359. 

Zola,  E.,  xi.  224 ;  and  war,  xx. 

165  ;    401,    xxii.    253,    279 ; 

in  The  Non-Acting,  xxiii.  43. 
Zolotov,   iv.   33,  42,  272,  xxii. 

285. 
Zoology,  Stories  from,  xii.  159. 
Zoroaster,  xvi.  248.      See  also 

Zarathustra. 
Zotov,  ii.  381. 
Zubov,  V.  170. 
Ziikhin,  i.  446. 
Zulu,  xvii.  390. 
Zvyezdintsev,  Anna  Pdvlovna, 

xviii.  187;    Leonid  Fedoro- 

vich,  187. 
Zydbrev,  ii.  21 ;  iv.  197. 
Zylinski,  vi.  199. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Of  Works  and  Articles    on    Tolstoy   in    English, 
German,  and  French 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Of  Works   and   Articles   on   Tolstoy   in   English, 
German,  and  French 


In  1903,  the  seventy-fifth  year  of  L.  N.  Tolstoy's  life, 
there  were  published  in  Russia  two  bibliographical  works 
dealing  with  the  popularity  of  the  great  Eussian  author. 
The  first,  Count  L.  N.  Tolstoy  as  a  Universal  Author, 
and  the  Diffusion  of  His  Works  in  Russia  and  Abroad, 
published  in  St.  Petersburg  by  P.  D.  Draganov,  Assistant 
Librarian  of  the  Imperial  Public  Library,  claims  to  be 
only  an  extract  from  a  larger  work  to  be  published  in  the 
future,  which  will  treat  of  the  translations  of  Tolstoy  into 
forty-five  languages.  The  second,  Count  L.  Tolstoy  in 
Literature,  and  Art.  A  Thorough  Bihliographical  Index 
to  the  Russian  and  the  Foreign  Literatures  concerning 
Count  L.  N.  Tolstoy,  by  Yuri  Bitovt  (Moscow),  which 
apparently  intends  to  be  complete,  gives  in  all  4,002 
numbers.  This  latter  work,  though  interesting  as  regards 
the  information  given  from  Eussian  sources,  is  very  far 
from  being  either  exact  or  complete.  Thus,  instead  of 
the  nearly  250  numbers  of  German  works  and  articles  on 
Tolstoy  and  his  works,  collected  by  me,  only  twenty  are 
given ;  a  large  number  of  translations  into  English,  which 
have  appeared  in  periodicals  and  cheap  editions,  are  not 
mentioned ;  many  translations  into  Slovak  and  Judeo- 
German  personally   known   to  me  are  unknown  to  the 

403 


404  BIBLIOGKAPHT 

author.  From  these  facts  it  may  be  assumed  that  even 
now  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  bring  together  ten  thou- 
sand numbers,  if  not  much  more. 

But  even  with  the  insufficient  material  at  hand  it  is 
possible  to  establish  certain  important  and  curious  points 
in  the  popularity  of  the  greatest  Eussian  prose  writer. 
He  has  been  translated  into  all  the  literary  languages  of 
Europe,  including  Karelian,  Esthonian,  Lettish,  Lithu- 
anian, Turkish,  and  Georgian.  Some  of  his  works  are  to 
be  found  in  Arabic,  Sart,  Kazano-Tartar,  Perso-Tartar,  Che- 
remis,  Chinese,  Japanese,  Armenian,  Hebrew,  Judeo- 
German,  and  even  Esperanto.  The  English  language 
leads  in  the  number  of  separate  pieces  translated :  though 
only  262  are  given  by  Bitovt,  it  may  safely  be  assumed 
that  there  are  more  than  three  hundred  of  them. 

Up  to  the  year  1900  there  appeared  304  separate 
pieces,  either  complete  editions,  or  whole  works,  or  sepa- 
rate articles,  in  Russia  alone,  most  of  these  in  St.  Peters- 
burg and  Moscow.  Of  the  eighteen  so-called  complete 
editions,  sixteen  have  been  published  in  Moscow.  These 
Russian  publications  contain  all  the  early  productions 
fairly  complete,  and,  since  1880,  only  a  few  of  the  later 
works,  nearly  all  of  them  curtailed  and  corrupted  by  the 
censor.  The  unceu sored  works  frequently  coursed  in 
Russia  in  lithographic  copies  and  found  their  way  abroad, 
where  the  best  texts,  though  not  always  relialjle,  were 
published  by  M.  Elpidin  in  Carouge-Genfeve  ;  since  1896 
correct  texts  have  been  printed  in  England,  at  first  in 
London  and  later  in  Christchurch,  by  Vladimir  Chertkdv 
(Tchertkoff),  Tolstoy's  foreign  representative.  The  works 
published  abroad  comprise  more  than  half  of  all  of  Tol- 
stoy's writings. 

The  present  collection  of  works  on  Tolstoy,  in  English, 
German,  and  French,  is  fairly  complete  for  the  first  two, 
less  so  for  the  French,  as  the  bibliographies  in  that 
language  are  very  unsatisfactory.     Readers  are  requested 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  405 

to  communicate  to  the  translator  any  omissions  they  may 
observe. 

I.    ENGLISH 

1  A.,  M.  R.     Tolstoi  Maltreated,  in  Nation  71,  287. 

2  A  Talk  about  T.  ;   Interview  with  Mr,  Tchertkoff, 

in  Young  Man  13,  80. 

3  A  Visit  to  Count  T.,  in  Cornhill  18,  597. 

4  About  T.,  in  Independent  55,  2419. 

5  Adams,  M.     Ethics    of   T.   and   Nietzsche,  in  International 

Journal  of  Ethics  11,  82. 

6  Anna  Karenina,  in  Literary  World  17,  127. 

7  Arnold,    M.     L.    Tolstoi,    in    Fortnightly    Review    43,   783, 

Critic  12,  22,  and  Living  Age  176,  82. 

8  .     L.    Tolstoi,    in   his  Essays  in    Criticism,  2d  series, 

London,   1889. 

9  Austin,  L.  F.     L.  T.  as  Critic  of  Manpassant,  in  Academy 

53,  ISO,  and  Current  Literature  23,  397. 

10  Bartol,  C.  a.     «  Kreutzer  Sonata,"  in  Forwn  10,  264. 

11  Bascom,  J.     T.'s  Christian  Teaching,  in  Dial  28,  19. 

12  Behrs,  C.  a.     Recollections  of  L.  T.,  transl.  from  the  Rus- 

sian by  C.  E.  Turner,  London,  1893. 

13  Bennett,  J.     T.'s  "What  Is  Art?"   in  Musical  Times  4I, 

169,  231,  446. 
1  \  Bentzon,  Th.    Recent  Interview  with  T.,  in  Critic  n.s.  4,1,  570. 

15  Berenson,  B.     Writings  of  T.,  in  Harvard  Magazine  3,  138. 

16  Bernstein,  J.     T.'s  Objections  to  Socialism,  in  Metaphysical 

Magazine  16,  161. 

17  Beveridge,  a.  J.     The  Russian  Advance,  New  York  and 

London,  1903. 

18  BiENSTOCK,  J.  W.     T.'s  Recent  Literary  Activity,  in  Inde- 

pendent 54,  2891. 

19  Bird,  F.  M.     Lapse  of  T.,  in  Lippincott's  Magazine  4,6,  273. 

20  BiXBY,  J.  T.     T.  and  the  New  Quakerism,  in  Arena  28,  133. 

21  Bjerregaard,  C.  H.  A.     On  T.'s  "  Resurrection,"  in  Ideal 

Review  12,  127. 

22  BoGLiETTi,  G.     On  T.,  in  Revieiv  of  Reviews  (Eng.)  4,  284. 

23  Brinton,  C.     T.  under  Ban  of  the  Church,  in  Critic  37,  231. 


406  BIBLIO.aRAPHY 

24  Cahan,  a.     Mantle  of  Tolstoi,  in  Bookma7i  16,  590. 

25  Caldkron,  G.  L.     The  Wrong  T.,  in  Monthly  Review  3,  129, 

and  Living  Age  229,  819. 

26  Carpenter,  Bishop  B.     Reply  to  "  The  Kingdom  of  God  Is 

within  You,"  in  Nero  Review  10,  186. 

27  Celebration  of  T.'s  70th  Birthday,  in  Bookman  8,  106. 

28  Chat  about  T.,  in  Critic  34,  10. 

29  Chesterton,  G.  K.     T.  and  the  Cult  of  Simplicity,  in  hia 

Twelve  Types,  London,  1902,  and  in  his  Varied  Types,  New 
York,  1903. 

30  Chesterton,  G.  K.,  Perris,  G.  H.,  and  Garnett,  E.     Leo 

Tolstoy,  New  York  and  London,  1903. 

31  Childhood,  Boyhood,  and  Youth,  in  Spectator  62,  762. 

32  Christian  Teaching,  in  Public  Opinion  25,  569. 

33  Colbron,  G.  I.     Essays,  Letters,  and  Miscellanies,  in  Book- 

man 13,  182. 

34  Crawford,  V.  M.     "War  and   Peace,"  in    her    Studies   in 

Foreign  Literature,  Boston,  1899. 

35  Creelman,  J.     The  Avatar  of  Count  T.,  and,  T.  and   his 

People,  in  his  On  the  Great  Highway,  New  York,  1901. 

36  Crosby,  E.  H.     T.'s  Philosophy  of  Life,  in  Arena  15,  279. 

37  .     T.  as  Philosopher,  Prophet,  and  Man,  ib.  25,  429. 

T.  and  his  Message,  ib.  30,  660,  and  New  York, 


38 
39 
40 


1903. 


2,  407 


708. 


Two    Days  with    Count    T.,  in  Progressive  Review 
Answer  to  the  Riddle  of  Life,  in  Open  Court  17, 


41  .     T.  and  Non-resistance,  in  Outlook  5^,  52. 

42  .     T.  as  a  Schoolmaster,  a  series    of  five  articles   in 

Complete  Education,  of  Toledo,  Ohio  (afterward  included  in 
his  book  of  the  same  name). 

43  .     Count  T.,  His  Philosophy,  a  series  of  six  articles 

in  Facts  and  Fiction,  Chicago,  Jan.  —  June,  1897  (substan- 
tially included  in  his  book  "Tolstoy  and  His  Message"). 

44  .     Count  T.   at   Home,   in  Leslie's    Weekly,  Nov.   10, 

1898. 

45  .     T.'s  Gospel  of   Love  and  Self-denial,  in   Christian 

Herald,  N.  Y.,  Jan.  9,  1901. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  407 

46 Count  T.,  the  Peasant  Nobleman,  in   The  Pilgrim, 

Michigan,  June,  1901. 

47  .     Seventieth  Birthday  of  the  Grand  Old  Man  of  Rus- 
sia, in  Social  Gospel,  Commonwealth,  Ga.,  1898. 

48  .     Snap-shots  at  Tolstoy,  in  The  Whim,  Newark,  N.  J., 

July,  1901. 

49  .     A   True   Story,    in    The    Whim,   Nov.,    1901    (now 

forming  a  chapter  in  <'  Tolstoy  as  a  Schoolmaster"). 

50 T.  and  His  Message,  London  and  N.  Y. 

51  .     T.  as  a  Schoolmaster,  Chicago,  1905. 

52  CuFFE,  H.  O.     T.'s  Book  "  The  Kingdom  of  God  Is  within 

You  " ;  Christianity  according  to  T.,  in  Lucifer  19,  330. 

53  Dawson,  W.  J.     The  Man  and  His  Message,  in  Young  Man  9, 

397. 

54  Death  of  Ivan  Ilyitch,  transl.  by  C.  Garnett,  in  Athenceum 

1902,  2,  680. 

55  Decree  of  T.'s  Excommunication,  in  Current  Literature  31^ 

232, 

56  Deschamps,  G.     T.'s    "  Resurrection  "  ;  A   Review    (Balzac 

Library,  No.  3),  New  York,  1900. 

57  DiCAST.     Failure  of  T.'s  Religion,  in  Independent  53,  725. 

58  Dillon,  E.  J.     Work  of  T.  in  the  Famine  Districts,  in  Re- 

view of  Reviews  (N.  Y.)  5,  29. 

59 Count  T.'s  Faith  and  Practice,  ib.  (Eng.)  5,  35. 

60 T.'s  Disciples  and  Traducers,  ib.  (Eng.)  5,  414. 

61  Dinner  in  Honor  of  T.'s  70th  Birthday,  in  Critic  33,  276. 

62  DiRCKS,  \V.     On  T.'s  "  Resurrection,"  in  Dome  5,  217. 

63  Dole,  N.  H.     Sketch  of  T.,  in  Bookbuyer  17,  89. 

64  .     T.'s  Astronomy,  in  Athenceum,\^02,  1,  436. 

65  DouMic,  R.     T.'s  Theory  of  Art,  in  Living  Age  218,  607. 

66  .     "  Resurrection,"  in  Eclectic  Magazine  135,  86,  and 

Living  Age  225,  529. 

67  DoviDOFF,  Mad.  L.  T.     Count  L.  T.,  in  Cosmopolitan  12,  719. 

68  DowD,  J.     T.'s  Criticism  of  Modern  Art,  in  Public  Opinion 

26,  149. 

69  Downes,  R.  p.     Tolstoi,  in  Great  Thoughts  8,  104. 

70  Dupuy,  E.     Great  Masters  of  Russian  Literature,  trans,  by 

N.  H.  Dole,  New  York,  1880. 


408  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

71  Edwards,  G.  C.     Leo  Tolstoi,  in  Seivanee  Quarterly  Review 

9,  457. 

72  Eggleston,  F.  O.     T.  and  Problem  of  Life,  in   Unitarian 

Revieio  34,  79. 

73  Ellis,  H.     The  New  Spirit,  London,  1890. 

74  Ethics  of  L.  T.,  in  Overland  Monthly  n.  s.  13,  651. 

75  Evans,  Mrs.  E.  E.     A  Nearer  View  of  T.,  in  Open  Court  16, 

396. 

76  Excommunication  of  T.,  in  Outlook  67,  84. 

77  ,  in  Independent  52,  2401. 

78  Farrar,  F.  W.     Leo  Tolstoi,  in  Forum  6,  109. 

79  .     Religion  of  T.,  ib.  6,  337. 

80  Faville,  J.     T.  on  Immortality,  in  Andover  Review  9,  499. 

81  Findlater,  J.  H.     T.  as  a  War  Novelist,  in  Living  Age  230, 

494. 

82  Flower,  B.  O.     On  May  A.  Ward's  "  Prophets  of  the  Nine- 

teenth Century,"  in  Arena  24,  552. 
83 Eeview  of  T.'s  Plays,  ib.  32,  671. 

84  G.,  J.  L.     How  the  Russian  Novelist  Lives  and  Works,  in 

Critic  34,  417. 

85  Ganz,  H.     The  Land  of  Riddles,  from  the  German,  by  H. 

Rosenthal,  New  York,  1904. 

86  Garnett,  C.  and  E.     T.  and  "  Resurrection,"  in  North  Amer- 

ican Revieio  172,  504. 

87  Garnett,  E.     Merejkowski's  "  T.  as  Man  and   Artist,"  in 

Bookman  17,  95. 
88 T.'s  Place  in  European  Literature,  ib.  19,  184. 

89  Gay,  S.  E.     <'  The  Kreutzer  Sonata,"  in  Modern  Review  2, 

99. 

90  Gibson,    A.    E.     The   Message   of   T.'s   "Resurrection,"  in 

Metaphysical  Magazine  I4,  317. 

91  GossE,  E.  W.     Count   L.  T.,  in    Critical  Kit-kats,   London, 

1896. 

92  Grierson,  F.     Modern  Mysticism  and  Other  Essays,  Lon- 

don, 1899. 

93  Griswold,  H.  T.     Personal  Sketches   of   Recent   Authors, 

Chicago,  1898. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  409 

94  Grote,  Prof.    Moral  Systems  of  T.  and  Nietzsche,  in  Pub- 

lic Opinion  I4,  621. 

95  Gunning,  W.  D.     T.  and  Primitive  Christianity,  in  Open 

Court  1,  398. 

96  Hale,  E.  E.     Leo  Tolstoi,  in  Cosmopolitan  7,  415. 

97  Halpi^rine  -  Kaminsky,  E.    T.  on  the  Music  of  "Wagner,  in 

Music  14,  345. 

98  Handley,  F.     L.  Tolstoy,  in  Our  Day  15,  71. 

99  Hapgood,  I.  F.     T.  at  Home,  in  Atlantic  Monthly  68,  596. 
100 T.  and  the  Public  Censor,  in  Fortnightly  Review 

60,  57. 

101  .     T.  as  He  Is,  in  Munsey's  Magazine  15,  555. 

102  

103  

104  

105  

106  


Gabriele  D'Annunzio  and  T.,  in  Bookman  3,  227. 

T.  and  Turgeneff,  in  Nation  42,  388. 

Christian  Name  of  T.,  ib.  46,  237. 

"  Kreutzer  Sonata,"  ib.  50,  313. 

Maude's  "  T.  and  His  Problems,"  ib.  73,  420. 

107  Hapgood,  N.     Ethics  of  L.  T.,  in  Harvard  Monthly  S,  191. 

108  Heath,  R.     L.  Tolstoi,  in  Leisure  Hours  38,  158. 

109  Henderson,  C.  R.     Slavery  of  Our  Times,  in  Dial  30,  401. 

110  Henley,  W.  E.     Views  and  Reviews,  New  York,  1890. 

111  HoRNBLOW,  A.     T.'s  Denunciation  of  Contemporary  Art,  in 

Bookman  12,  382. 

112  HoRTON,   S.     On  T.,  in  Primitive  Methodist    Quarterly   Re- 

view 33,  37. 

113  Houghton,  R.  C.     L.  Tolstoi,  in  Methodist  Review  49,  377. 

114  Howells,  W.  D.     My  Literary  Passions,  New  York,  1895. 
115 Leo  Tolstoi,  in  Warner  Library  25,  14,985. 

116  Howells  and  M,  Thompson  on  T,,  in  Literary  World  IS, 

233. 

117  Hubbard,  E.     Interpretation  Done  in  Little,  in  Cosmopol- 

itan 34,  442. 
118 Confession  of  T.,  in  Dial  8,  125. 

119  Huybers,  E.  a.     "  What  Is  Art  ?"  in  Literature  3,  116. 

120  Hyde,  G.  M.     T.'s  Theory  of  Art,  in  Bookman  8,  148. 

121  Imitation  of  Tolstoy,  in  Cornhill  Magazine  62,  376,  and 

Living  Age  198,  407. 


410  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

122  Important  and  the  Trivial  in  Art,  in  Independent  52, 

1656  and  1711. 

123  Ingersoll,    R.  G.     "  Kreutzer  Sonata,"  in  North  American 

Review  151,  289. 

124  Johnston,  C.     Quarrel  between  L.  Tolstoy  and  Ivan  Tur- 

genief,  in  Academy  38,  392. 

125  .     T.  at  Home,  in  Arena  20,  480. 

126  .     How  T.  Writes,  ih.  21,  269. 

127  JuTTEN,  D.  B.     Eeligion  of  T.,  in  Baptist  Review  10,  307. 

128  Kennan,  G.     a  Visit  to  Tolstoy,  in  Century  Magazine  12, 

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129  Kenworthy,  J.  C.     Pilgrimage  to  T. :    Letters  from  Rus- 

sia to  the  New  Age,  Jan.,  1896,  London,  1900. 

130  .     T.  :  His  Life  and  Works,  London,  1902. 

131  .     A  Visit  to  Count  T.,  in  Humane  Review  1,  262. 

132  .     T.'s  "What  Is  Art?"  in  St.  George  1,  67. 

133  .     Thoughts  on  a  Recent  Visit  to  Count  T.,  ih.  3, 191, 

134  Kenworthy's  T.,  in  Athenteum,  1902,  2,  309. 

135  Kirkland,  J.     Count  L.  T.,  in  Dial  7,  79. 

136  Knowlson,  T.  S.     T.'s  "  My  Confession,"  the  Confession  of 

an  Inquiring  Spirit,  in  Great  Thoughts  5,  263. 

137  Krauskopf,  Rabbi  J.     T.,  the  Apostle  of  Russia,  Philadel- 

phia, 1896. 

138  Kreutzer  Sonata,  in  Review  of  Reviews  1,  330. 

139  Krockow,  Countess  von.     Seuron's  Life  of  T.,  in  Inde- 

pendent Jf,8,  26. 

140  L.,  A.  F.     Remarkable  Phenomena  in  Connection  with  the 

Portraits  of  Count  T.,  in  Outlook  69,  950. 

141  LAJfGEL,  A.     "  Anna  Karenina,"  and  "  War  and  Peace,"  in 

Nation  40,  70. 

142  .  "  My  Religion,"  ib.  4I,  298. 

143  .  T.  Souvenirs,  ib.  42,  234. 

144  .  T.  on  Patriotism,  ib.  59,  171. 

145  .  T.'s  Theory  of  Art,  ib.  67,  275  and  308. 

146  Laughlin,  J.  L.     Reply   to    T.'s    "  On    Money,"   in    Open 

Court  14,  221. 


BIBLIOGRAFHT  411 

147  Leroy-Beaulieu,  A,     Theories  of  T.,  in   Chautauquan  9, 

149. 

148  Life   and   Teachings  of  L.  T.,  ed.  by  G.  H.  Ferris,  in 

Athenceum,  1902,  1,  330. 

149  List  of  T.,  in  Literary  World  18,  321. 

150  Long,  R.  E.  C.     T.  in  Thought  and  Action,  in  Review  of 

Reviews  (Eng.)  23,  433,  and  (N.  Y.)  24,  33,  and  (Aust.) 
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151  Lynch,  Miss  H.     "  Kreutzer    Sonata "   vs.  Zola's  "  F6con- 

dit^V'  in  Fortnightly  Review  67,  69,  and  in  Balzac  Library, 
No.  2,  New  York,  1900. 

152  MacQueen,    p.      Tolstoi    on    America,    an   Interview,    in 

Frank  Leslie's  Popular  Monthly  52,  610. 

153  Macy,  J.  A.     Tolstoi's   Moral   Theory  of  Art,  in  Century 

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154  Mallet,  Miss  E.  M.     The    Theosophy   of   Count   T.,   in 

Theosophical  Preview  26,  48. 

155  Marvin,  F.  S.     T.'s  "  What  Is  Art  ? "  in  Positivist  Review 

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156  Massingham,  H.  W.     The  Philosophy  of  a  Saint,  in  Con- 

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1.57  Maude,  A.     The  Teaching  of  T.,  Manchester,  1900. 

158  .     T.  and  His  Problems :   Essays,  London  and  New 

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159  .     Essays  on  Art:  I.  An  Introduction  to  "What  Is 

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160  .     T.'s  Theory  of  Art,  in    Contemporary  Review  77, 

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161 The  Later  Work  of  T ,  in  Bookman  11,  359. 

162  .     Misinterpretation  of  T.,  in  Open  Court  16,  590. 

163  .     A   Talk  with  Miss  Jane  Addams   and  L.  T.,  in 

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164 Talks  with  Count  T.,  in  New  Century  Review  7, 

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165  Maude's  "  T.  and  His  Problems,"  in  Athenceum,  1901,  1, 

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166  Mayo,  I.  F.     The  Philanthropist  of  the  Russian  Famine,  in 

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412  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

167  McDouGALL,  E.  M.  L.     On  L.  T.,  in  Sunday  Magazine  SI, 

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168  Merejkowski,  D.     T.  as  Man  and  Artist;  with  an  Essay 

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169  Moore,  G.     Impressions  of  T.,  in  Lippincott's  Magazine  72, 

608.     Work  of  T.,  ih.  72,  697. 

170  More,  P.  E.     Shelburne  Essays,  New  York,  1904. 

171 T.'s  Theory  of  Art,  in  Atlantic  Review  218,  607. 

172  .     The  Ancient  Feud  between  Philosophy  and  Art, 

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173  My  Religion,  in  Literary  World  17,  238. 

174  Newmarch,  R.     Tchaikovsky  and  Tolstoi,  in  Contemporary 

Review  83,  112,  and  Literary  Age  237,  58. 

175  Newton,  W.  W.     A  Run  through  Russia;  the  Story  of  a 

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176  NiccHiA.     My  Last  Memory  of  T.,  in  Craftsman  J^,  45. 

177  NoRDAU,  M.     Tolstoism,    in   his  Degeneration,  New  York, 

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178  Norman,  H.     T.  at  Home,  in  Scribner's  Monthly  28,  299. 
179 Count   T.   at   Home   and   Abroad,   in   his  All  the 

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180  Norton,  G.     T.  and  Montaigne,  in  Nation  42,  335. 

181  Novels  of  T.,  in  Saturday  Review  63,  22. 

182  P.,  C.  S.     The  Teachings  of  Count  T.,  in  Theosophical  Re- 

vieiv  27,  155. 

183  Panin,  I.  N.     Lectures    on    Russian    Literature :    Pushkin, 

Gogol,  Turgenef,  Tolstoy,  New  York,  1889. 

184  Paulding,  J.  K.     T.  at  the  Berlin  Theatre,  in  Nation  72, 

47, 

185  Payne,  W.  M.     Review  of  T.'s  "  Resurrection,"  in  Dial  28, 

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186  Peck,  H.  T.     Review  of  T.'s  "Resurrection,"  in  Boohnan 

11,  176. 

187  Perris,  G.  H.     Russia  of  T.,  in  Forum  29,  751. 

188 L.  T.,  the  Grand  Mujik,  a  Study  in  Personal  Evo- 
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189 T.'s    "What  Is  Art?"  in  Architectural  Review  4, 

213. 

190  .     L.  T.  as  Writer,  in  Bookman  19,  ISO. 

191  .     T.'s    Home  Life,  in   The  Daily   Chronicle,  August 

6,  1904. 

192  Perris's  L.  T.,  reviewed  in  Outlook  (Eng.)  2,  54. 

193  ,  Academy  54,  139. 

194  ,  Literature  3,  147. 

195  ,  Critic  30,  184. 

196  ,  Athenceum,  1898,  3,  382. 

197  Physiology  of  War,  in  Nation  ^6,  345. 

198  Phythian,  J.   E.     T.'s   "What   Is   Art?"    in   Manchester 

Quarterly  20,  184. 

199  Power  of  Darkness,  in  Literary  World  18,  297. 

200  Prescott,  D.     Our  T.  Club,  in  Century  Magazine  21,  761. 

201  Publication  of  "  Resurrection,"  in  Academy  56,  306. 

202  R.,  A.  L     A  True   Theosophist  —  Count  Tolstoi,  in   Theo- 

sophical  Tract  Series,  Bombay,  1890. 

203  Ragg,  a.  E.     To  Count  T.,  a  Poem,  in  Canadian  Magazine 

17,  44. 

204  Ralston,  W.  R.  S.     Novels  of  Count  L.  T.,  in  Nineteenth 

Century  5,  650,  and  Living  Age  I4I,  409. 

205  Reade,  R.  H.     L.  Tolstoi,  in  Good  Words  33,  448. 

206  Regeneration,  a  Reply   to   Max    Nordau,  with   Intro- 

duction by  N.  M.  Butler,  New  York,  1896. 

207  Religion  of  T.,  in  New  England  Magazine  46,  140. 

208  Resurrection,  in  Academy  57,  255. 

209  RiCKABY,  J.     Reply  to  "The   Kingdom  of  God  Is  within 

You,"  in  Neii:  Review  10,  195. 

210  Robertson,  J.  M.     T.  and  the  Ethics  of  Jesus,  in  Free  Re- 

view 4i  214. 

211  Rod,  E.     L.    Tolstoi,   in    Eclectic   Magazine   133,  585,  and 

Living  Age  222,  629. 

212  Rogers,  J.  G.     Reply  to  "  The  Kingdom  of  God  Is  within 

You,"  in  New  Review  10,  198. 

213  RosEGGER,  P.  G.     "Kreutzer    Sonata,"   in    Open    Court   5, 

2795. 


414  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

214  RoYCE,  J.     T.  and  the  Unseen  Moral  Order,  in  Liber  Scrip- 

torum,  New  York,  1893. 

215  Saintsbury,  G.     Literary  Prophets  of  the  Later  Nineteenth 

Century,  in  Independent  54,  3023. 

216  ScHiNZ,  A.     Count  T.  and  E.  Rod,  in  Bookman  17,  645. 

217  Schuyler,  E.     Count  T.  Twenty  Years  Ago,  in  Scribner's 

Magazine  5,  537  and  732,  and  in  his  Selected  Essays,  New 
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218  Sedgwick,  H.  D.     T.'s  Life  and  Work,  in   World's  Work  3, 

1953. 

219  Sergyeenko,  P.  A.     How  Count  L.  N.  T.  Lives  and  Works, 

trans,  by  I.  F.  Hapgood,  New  York  and  Boston,  1899. 

220  .     Reviewed  in  Literary  World  30,  151. 

221  .     Reviewed  in  Dial  26,  346. 

222  .     Reviewed  in  Athenceim,  1900,  1,  145. 

223  Sevastopol  and   Other   Military   Tales,  trans,  by  L. 

Maude  and  A.  Maude,  reviewed  in  Athenccum,  1901,  2,  871. 

224  Sharp,  W.     "  Work  While  Ye  Have  the  Light,"  in  Academy 

39,  109. 

225  Sheldon,  W.  L.     T.  from  an  Ethical  Standpoint,  in  Ethical 

Record  2,  65. 

226  Sinclair,  Archdeacon.     Reply  to  «  The  Kingdom  of  God 

Is  within  You,"  in  New  Review  10,  188. 

227  Sketch  of  T.,  in  Harper's  Weekly  ^5,  696. 

228  Smith,  J.  H.     T.'s  "  Childhood,  Boyhood,  and  Youth,"  in 

Journal  of  Education  17,  220  and  262. 

229  SoissoNS,  Count  de.     On  T.'s  "  Resurrection,"  in  Humani- 

tarian 17,  403. 

230  Some  of  the  Words  of  a  Free  Man,  in  Current  Literature 

31,  402. 

231  Speeches   at   the    Dinner    Given   in   Honour    of    His 

70th  Birthday,  in   Critic  30,  276. 

232  Spielmann,  M.  H.     "  What  Is  Art  ?  "  in  Literature  3,  77. 

233  Stadling,  J.     With  T.  in  the  Russian  Famine,  in  Century 

Magazine  46,  249,  560. 

234  Stead,  W.  T.     Count  T.  and  His  Gospel,  in  his  Truth  about 

Russia,  London,  1888. 

235  Steiner,  E.  A.     Visit  to  T.'s  Home,  in   Chautauquan  36, 

581. 


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236  .     Count  T.'s  Sociological  Views,  in  Bibliotheca  Sacra 

58,  179. 

237  .     Interview  with  T.,  in  Outlook  66,  828. 

238  .     T.  To-day,  ib.  75,  35. 

239 T.'s  Marriage  and  Family  Life,  ih.  75,  267. 

240  .     T.  in  the  Heart  of  Russia,  ih.  75,  537. 

241 Tolstoy  the  Man,  New  York,  1904. 

242  Steuart,  J.  A.     Letters  to  Living  Authors,  London,  1890. 

243  Stevens,  T.     Witli  Count  T.,  in  his  Through  Russia  on  a 

Mustang,  New  York,  1891. 

244  Stockham,  Mrs.  A.  B.     T.,  a  Man  of  Peace.     The  New 

Spirit,  by  H.  H.  Ellis,  Chicago,  1900. 

245  Stoddard,  F.  H.     L.  T.  and  Matthew  Arnold,  in  Andover 

Meview  10,  359,  and  Congregational  Review  3,  20. 

246  Strachey,  L.     Merejkowski's  "  T.  as  Man  and  Artist,"  re- 

viewed in  Critic  n.  s.  4^,  270. 

247  Street,  A.  E.     The  Realities  of  War:  Count  T.  and  M. 

Verestchagin,  in  his  Critical  Sketches,  London,  1894. 

248  Symons,  A.     "What  Is  Art?"  in  Saturday  Review  86,  148. 

249  .     T.'s  Plots   not  Adapted  to  Dramatization,  ih.  95, 

227. 

250  Tales  from   Tolstoi,  trans,  by  R.  N.  Bain,  reviewed  in 

Athenceum,  1901,  2,  871. 

251  "  The  Gospel  in  Brief,"  reviewed  in  Saturday  Review  83, 

448  ;  Biblical  World  9,  231. 

252  Theories  of  T.,  in  Critic  33,  184. 

253  Thompson,  M.     L.  Tolstoi,  in  Book  News  6,  9. 

254  Thompson  on  T.,  in  Literary  World  18,  281. 

255  Leo  Tolstoi,  in  Westminster  Review  130,  278. 
256'  ,  National  Magazine  14,  579. 

257  ,  Edinburgh  Review  194,  49. 

258  ,  Book  Buyer  3,  296. 

259  ,  Book  News  7,  268. 

260  ,  Academy  54,  139. 

261  ,  Dial  25,  121. 

262  L.  T.  and  F.  Dostoieffsky,  in  London  Quarterly  70,  49. 

263  T.  AND  His  Family  Estate,  in  Review  of  Reviews  19,  490, 


416  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

264  T.  AND  KoROLENKO,  in  Nation  46,  203. 

265  T.  AND  Nietzsche,  in  Review  of  Reviews  22,  614. 

266  T.  AND  THE  Church,  in  Current  Literature  30,  5. 

267  T.  AND  THE  Czar,  in  Outlook  61,  209. 

268  T.  AND  THE  Doctrine  of  Henry  George,  in  Review  of 

RevietuH  (Am.)  17,  73. 

269  T.  AND  the  Dorpat  University,  in  Outlook  75,  525. 

270  T.  and  the  Gospels,  in  Public  Opinion  19,  51. 

271  T.  and  the  Russian  Censors,  in  Outlook  69,  694. 

272  T.  AS  A  Dramatist,  in  Academy  64,  407. 

273  T.  Compared  with  Ibsen,  in  Chautauquan  31,  329. 

274  T.  Interviewed,  in  World  Literature  1,  109. 

275  T.  on  Art,  in  Nation  67,  308. 

276  T.  ON  Education  and  Instruction,  in  Review  of  Reviews 

26,  233. 

277  T.  ON  Money,  in  Open  Court  14.,  193. 

278  T.  ON  the  Office  of  a  Priest,  ib.  25,  616. 

279  T.'s  "  Anna  Karenina,"  trans,  by  C.  Garnett,  reviewed  in 

Athenceum,  1901,  2,  871. 

280  ,  Nation  72,  404. 

281  T.'s  Book,  "The  Kingdom  of  God   Is   within  Us,"  — 

Christian  Anarchism,  in  Review  of  Reviews  9,  306. 

282  T.'s  Daily  Life,  in  Critic  n.  s.  39,  105. 

283  T.'s  Defiance  to  the  Russian  Church,  in  Independent  53, 

1693. 

284  T.'s  Device  for  Peace,  in  Independent  51,  1036. 

285  T.'s    Essays,    Letters,    and   Miscellanies,   reviewed   in 

Literary  World  31,  216. 

286  T.'s  Excommunication,  in  Independent  53,  1662. 

287  ,  Outlook  67,  841. 

288  T.'s  Home  Life,  in  Current  Literature  26,  308. 

289  T.'s  Horror  of  War,  in  Independent  55,  889. 

290  T.'s  Illness,  in  Critic  40,  290. 

291  T.'s  Method  of  Work,  in  Current  Literature  30,  665. 

292  T.'s  Plan  of  Redemption,  in  Living  Age  219,  386. 

293  T.'s  "  Resurrection,"  trans,  by  Maude,  reviewed  in  Inde- 

pendent 52,  779. 


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294  ,  Public  Opinion  28,  409. 

295  ,  Review  of  Reviews  21,  167. 

296  ,  Critic  36,  355. 

297  ,  Athenceum,  1900,  1,  431. 

298  ,  Chautauquan  31,  111. 

299  ,  Nation  70,  345. 

300  T.'s  "  Resurrection,"  dramatized  by  H.  Bataille,  reviewed 

in  Athenceum,  1903,  1,  251. 

301  ,  Harper's  Weekly  47,  418. 

302  ,  Independent  55,  744. 

303  T.'s  Seventy-fifth  Birthday,  in  World's  Work  7,  4061. 

304  T.'s    "  The    Four    Gospels    Harmonized    and    Trans- 

lated," in  Review  of  Reviews  (Eng.)  11,  371,  and  (Aust.) 
6,  565. 

305  T.'s  Theory  of  Art,  in  Quarterly  Review  191,  359. 

306  T.'s  Translator  Defended,  in  Nation  61,  365. 

307  T.'s  Views  of  Art,  in  Review  of  Reviews  22,  91. 

308  T.'s  Work,  in  Dial  25,  121. 

309  ,  Literature  3,  73. 

310  T.,  THE  Statesman,  in  Independent  53,  1930. 

311  T.  THROUGH  French  Eyes,  in  Review  of  Reviews  26,  48. 

312  Triggs,  O.  L.     An  Instance  of  Conversion,  in  Open  Court 

16,  69. 

313  Tyler,  M.  F.     Novels  of  T.,  in  New  England  Magazine  46, 

193. 


314  Unpublished  Letters  from  Tolstoi,  in  Athenceum,  1902, 

2,  451. 

315  Van  Ness,  T.     A  Visit  to  Tolstoi,  in  Literary   World  20, 

56. 

316  Visit  to  T  ,  in  Cornhill  65,  597,  and  Living  Age  I04,  210  ; 

Literary  World  28,  160. 

317  ViTTUM,  E.  M.     T.  and  the  Modern  Church,  in  New  Eng- 

land  Magazine  48,  54. 

318  Walker,  J.  B.     Discontinuance  of  Count  Tolstoi's  Novel, 

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418  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

319  "  War  and  Peace,"  in  Literary  World  17,  348. 

320  ,  Spectator  60,  202. 

321  Ward,  M.  A.     Prophets  of  the  Nineteenth  Century :  Car- 

lyle,  Kuskin,  Tolstoy,  Boston,  1900. 

322  Wedgwood,  C.   C.     Leo    Tolstoi,   in    Contemporary  Review 

52,  249  ;  Eclectic  Magazine  109,  034. 

323  Wentz.     Maude's    "  T.    and    His    Problems,"    reviewed    in 

Book  Buyer  23,  243. 

324  Westrum,  S.  Van.     Review  of  Sergyeenko's  "  How  Count 

T.  Lives  and  Works,"  and  of  T.'s  "  Resurrection,"  in  Book 
Buyer  20,  230. 

325  «  What  Is  Art  ?  "  in  Bibliotheca  Sacra  55,  772. 

326  ,  Literary  World  29,  277. 

327  ,  Nation  67,  226. 

328  ,  Nation  67,  275. 

329  ,  Outlook  60,  87. 

330  ,  Popular  Science  Monthly  53,  553. 

331  ,  Public  Opinion  25,  249. 

332  "  What  to  Do  ?  "  in  Literary  World  18,  315. 

333  Wheeler,  W.     The  Social  and  Religious  Teachings  of  T., 

in  Primitive  Methodist  Quarterly  Revieiv  21,  601. 

334  Whipple,    C.    K.     "  Kjeutzer    Sonata,"  in    Open    Court   5, 

2796. 

335  White,  A.  D.     Walks    and    Talks  with   T.,  in    McClure's 

Magazine  16,  507,  and  Idler  19,  479. 

336  White,   W.    H.      T.'s   Astronomy,  in    Athenoium,   1901,  2, 

879. 

337  Wilkinson,  W.  C.     Tolstoi,  in  Homiletic  Review,  pp.  16-27, 

107-116,  1889. 

338  WoLKONSKY,  S.     Negations  of  T.,  in  Living  Age  213,  111. 

339  .     Pictures  of  Russian  History  and  Russian  Litera- 
ture, Boston,  1897. 

340  Wood,  H.      "What    to   Do?"    in    New   Science   Review  1, 

184. 

341  Worcester,  J.  H.,  Jr.     L.  T.  as  a  Reformer,  in  Presbyterian 

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342  Wrong  T.,  in  Review  of  Reviews  23,  727. 

343  Wyckoff,  G.  P.     Maude's  "  T.  and  His  Problems,"  in  Dial 

32,  46. 


BIBLIOGRAPnT 


419 


344  Yarros,  V.  S,     Decline  of  T.'s  Philosophy,  in  Chautauquan 

38,  703. 
345 Review  of  Maude's  translation  of  "  What  Is  Art?  " 

in  Dial  24,  249. 

346  Z.  Z.     "What  Is  Art?"  in  Outlooks,  52. 

II.    GERMAN 

347  AcHELis,  Th.     Leo  Tolstoi,  in  Neues  Wiener  Taghlatt,  No. 

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350 Graf  L.  T.,  in  Der  Lotse,  No.  7,  1901. 

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357  Aus  T.'s  Leben  (aias  P.  Sergejenko's  Buch),  in   Deutsches 

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358  AxELROD,  E.  L.   T.'s  Weltanschauung  und  ihre  Entwicklung, 

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361  Bahr,  H.     Gegen  Tolstoi,  in  Zeit,  No.  205,  1898. 

362  Bartels,  a.     T.'s  "  Auferstehung,"  in  Der  Kunstwart,  No. 

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363  Bauer,  E.     Graf  L.  T.  als  Plagiator,  in  Gegenwart,  No.  49, 

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420  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

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412  Finger,   B.     Tolstoi'sches  Christentum,  in    Zeitfragen   des 

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421  Gerschmann,  H.     Studien  iiber  den  modernen  Roman,  in 

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422  Gesprach  mit  T.,  in  Heimgarten,  pp.  146-8,  1901. 

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426  Glogau,  G.     Graf  L.  T.,  ein  russischer  Reformator.     Ein 

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430  GoLDscHMiDT,  A.     T.'s  "  Moderne  Sklaverei,"  in  Die  Gesell- 

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431  Grot,  N,     Nietzsche  und  T.,  in  Zukunft,  No.  21,  1897. 

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439  Hartmann,    A.    von.      T.'s   sittliche    Weltanschauung,   in 

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440  Hassel,  U.  von.     T.  und  sein  Verhaltniss  zu  Kirche  und 

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444  Henckel,  W.     Graf  L.  T.  und  die  Duchoborzen,  in  Wiener 

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THE   END. 


ERRATA' 


Vol.  IV.,  p.  41,  1.  16.  chauge  "psaltery"  to  "psalter." 

Vol.  IV.,  p.  221,  1.  24,  cliaiige  "gives"  to  "give." 

Vol.  IV.,  p.  303,  1.  30,  change  "goslings"  to  "kids." 

Vol.  IV.,  p.  304,  1.  1,  change  "  goslings"  to  "kids." 

Vol.  IV.,  p.  336,  1.  2,  change  "  Medans"  to  "  Medes." 

Vol.  v.,  p.  148,  1.  1,  change  "  one  but  the  last"  to  "last  but 

one." 

Vol.  VII.,  p.  204,  1.  8,  change  "princes  "  to  "  prince." 

Vol.  XIX.,  p.  110,  the  last  sentence  in  par.  7  to  read,  "They 

are  catching  fire,"  etc. 

Vol.  XIX.,  p.  Ill,  1.  4  in  par.  9,  change  "surely  renders"  to 

"surrenders." 

Vol.  XIX ,  p.  185,  1.  2  in  par.  8,  change  "  question  "  to  "life." 
Vol.  XIX.,  p.  243,  1.  5,  add  "  while"  before  "  tlie  proprietors." 

Errata  in  proper  names  are  corrected  in  the  index. 

1  Readers  are  requested  to  commuuicate  to  the  translator  any 
errata  they  may  notice. 


UCSOUTHfR\~r- 


"V  FACILITY 
III!  nil 


AA    000  503  746 


